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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26493106">Homing Instinct</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jury/pseuds/jury'>jury</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Bound Man [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Breeding Kink, Elements of Mind Control, Enemies Made Them Do It, Forced to Enjoy Non-Con, Hypnosis, Identity Issues, Interrogation, M/M, Military discipline, Mutual Dubcon/Noncon, Non-Protagonist Genital Trauma, Paddling, Stockholm Syndrome</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:54:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,768</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26493106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jury/pseuds/jury</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Ah, sweet Mother Mira," Thei said. "You know, I've never seen it. It must be beautiful indeed, to inspire such devotion."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"If you want to see it, just look around my mind while you're in there," Kolya said, through gritted teeth. He didn't want Thei's hands on him. He wanted to lean into the touch. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"That's not the same," Thei said. "It would be better if you opened yourself to me."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'd rather die," Kolya spat. "I want to go home."</em>
</p><p>-</p><p>Thei lets Kolya go.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Male Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Bound Man [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1529096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Iddy Iddy Bang Bang! 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Homing Instinct</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I recommend reading the previous stories for this to make sense.</p><p>El betaed this. El is dozing off on a rainy night, knowing you can sleep in tomorrow.</p><p>Thanks to Vas for fearbuddying!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kolya ached. Not just his body, although that was also apparent, but his <em>mind </em>ached, as though someone had taken to it with a training sword. For a moment he didn't know where he was, except for face down on something soft. He conducted a quick inventory. His thighs were bruised, hips sore, his ass, his <em>hole — </em>he tried not to think of it.</p><p>He pushed himself up. He was covered in a cold sweat, fighting a lingering sensation that he couldn't quite place. He stood on shaky legs, flicking his blurry eyes around the room. </p><p>He knew where he was, sort of, but how long had he been here? His mouth felt dry and bitter. It took him long seconds to remember how to take stock of his surroundings, but slowly he took in enough to realise he was alone. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been alone. </p><p>Obviously it was a trap, he thought, tearing a sheet down to size and tying it around his body. Thei wasn't a fool. He knew that leaving Kolya alone was very stupid indeed. Kolya'd spent most of a while — <em>the first month</em>, he thought, and then swallowed it down — whispering little plans into Vitale's ear, his voice catching every time Vitale pushed deep inside him, his laboured breaths interrupting Kolya, the tight grip on his waist almost too much to bear. Thei was never watching him — Thei didn't seem to notice him at all, apart from as Vitale's pet — but he was always listening.</p><p>That had to be true now, too, Kolya thought, knotting the sheet around his hips. He climbed on top of the shelf in the corner and stood up to look through the niche window in the stone. Outside he could see green grass and trees heavy with blooming flowers. He swallowed, slowly, his dry throat squeezing. It had been winter, hadn't it? He had remembered it being cold, frigid air reaching his limbs every time Vitale shifted him back and forth under the covers. He hadn't pulled his cock out of Kolya even to sleep, keeping him trapped with just the weight of one arm. </p><p>He stumbled back down from the window, catching a mug with one hand just before it hit the ground. Speed, silence, information, he thought, placing the mug back on the desk. Get back to Mira. Get back <em>home</em>. Of course it was a trap, but every trap had to be baited with something.</p><p>Now that he'd seen outside, he could sense the spring in the air, the breath of warm wind on the cool air. He followed that sense out of the room without casting a glance back. The fort sounded strangely empty. In his last memories before — before Thei, everything had been a constant buzz of activity, messengers running up and down the corridors, warriors training in the yard, the augurs and chirurgeons gossiping in the indoor garden. But now there was nothing but birdsong and the sweep of the wind through the trees. That, and his own footsteps as he worked his way past a hundred empty rooms and down to the ground itself. </p><p>The main hall was as silent as the rest of the fort, the ragged tapestries on the wall dragged by the wind. The main door was open and had been for a while; there were little weeds poking up between the flagstones. There was nothing between him and the outside. Nothing between him and curling his toes in the wet grass. If he turned just a little, he could see the hazy line of Jehan's mountains in the distance, a blurry blue-on-blue. That was it, that was <em>it</em>, just beyond that little, inconsequential jut of rock. It was so close that he yearned to dash for it. Hope swelled in his throat and he fought to swallow past it. Even being able to look at the mountains and know Mira was on the other side made his breaths come fast and high. Just past there was <em>home</em>. </p><p>Something pinched at the back of his neck. He held still. It felt like — like a fishing cast gone awry, a hook caught in the nape of his neck. This was <em>it</em>. This was what it felt like. <em>Not again</em>, he thought. Not now. Not here. He was so close, fighting to take a step towards the door with all he had. But reluctantly, he turned towards the hook. </p><p>It wasn't like he'd never passed through this way. He had, of course, hundreds of times going in and out of the fort, but it was like he'd never <em>looked</em>. This wasn't how he remembered it. There was something different about it, something more than just the crook of a tunnel in the rock. He couldn't say what had changed, only that it made him uneasy. There was just a jagged-edged hewn <em>hole</em> in the rock, with seemingly nothing behind it except pitch black darkness. He hesitated, his hands held up in the air, feeling the spring breeze flow past him, sucked down into the depths of whatever remained below.</p><p>He could not return home without doing his duty. Kolya knew that. It was not just the tug in his neck pulling him towards the darkness. He didn't expect a warm welcome when he returned to Mira — when, not if, he told himself — but if they knew he'd passed up this opportunity, it truly would be a <em>Miran</em> welcome. </p><p>He gritted his teeth, huffed out a breath that sounded harsh and loud to his own ears, and turned his body towards the hole, moving towards it as if he expected a hand to reach out to him through the dark.</p><p>Once he stepped past the threshold, the temperature dropped immediately. He shivered, gooseflesh rising on his arms and legs, and pressed on into the darkness, hands held out in front of him, seeking ahead. The moment the tunnel took a turn, the darkness closed around him, and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from calling out <em>Vitale</em> into the dark. It was madness — they'd barely spoken except for the hastily-penned notes pressed into the trunk of the tree. What had Thei done to him? Was he even still alive? </p><p>He descended for a very long time. It could have been seconds; in the dark there was no way to tell. The tunnel took a slight curve, his left hand brushing against cold, damp stone in what could have been a path or a loop, until finally there was a dim light at the end of it, the smell of burning oil, faintly herbaceous. He rounded the corner towards that light. He was too well-trained to be afraid, but the steady thump of his heart unnerved him all the more. </p><p>The light played on the ground, the tunnel widening out into a cavern where the wall was punctuated with — holes. He paused at the threshold, looking down at his own bare feet. Not simply the wall, but the floor too, hundreds of thousands of little cylindrical holes, some the size of a finger, some that a fist would fit inside, and everything in between. He looked down at them, curling his toes away. No matter how the light fell, or moved, nothing penetrated the darkness in the little holes. There could be anything in them. Anything.</p><p>"You can come in."</p><p>Kolya jerked his head up. Thei was sitting on a plinth in the middle of the room, an oil lamp burning next to him. One of his legs was over the edge, but the other was up on the flat surface, his head leaning on his knee. "It won't hurt you." He was smiling, relaxed, and it bothered Kolya more than coming across the threat of punishment or a stone-faced general.</p><p>"What is it?" Kolya said, and he couldn't help looking up and around the whole room. It was all like that, perforated in ways that made his mind blur and his stomach twist as he tried to observe it. The question had jumped out of him, without forethought. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Thei; tried to judge if he had taken it as an affront. Angering him seemed — unwise. </p><p>"Nothing now," Thei said. It was hard to look at him and not remember the augur he had been. Sweet, little. Not a hint of guile in his eyes or mouth. Not like now. Not the way that Thei's cool eyes were looking at him. </p><p>Kolya had never spoken to him much back then, but Thei had once brought him tea and fruit when Kolya had been laid low by an autumn fever. The tincture had been bitter and earthy, but it had cured his fever quickly. He'd always had a basket of fresh-cut herbs and flowers slung over his arm. </p><p>Thei knew what Kolya was thinking. He could tell just from the look in his eyes, the little smile.</p><p>"What did you do to him?" Kolya said. Fear flickered at the edge of his control. He needed information. He needed the truth, but he wasn't sure how far he could push things. None of his training had involved anything about standing toe to toe with a god.</p><p>"Curiosity," Thei said. "That was his flaw. Maybe all three of you."</p><p>"That's not what I asked." He waited for Thei's expression to change, for the push to receive a push back, but Thei did nothing more than blink, his gaze still on Kolya's face.</p><p>"Well, maybe <em>theirs</em>," Thei continued. "Yours might be compassion."</p><p>"What did you <em>do to him</em>?" </p><p>"I wish for once you'd ask what he did to me," Thei said, but he was still smiling, in a way that was almost fond. He was wearing an open-collared shirt that slipped forward over his collarbones, and there was a little crown of red-bitten bruises on his neck. "I don't know why you always assume <em>he's</em> the victim in this."</p><p>"You killed him," Kolya said, words falling from his numb lips.</p><p>"<em>I</em> killed him?" Thei said, and he did look affronted, just for a moment. "I don't understand what happens in your head sometimes. How am I meant to have done anything? Jumped up from my crypt as what? With what body?"</p><p>"I — "</p><p>"Think for a moment," Thei said. "Don't change my opinion of you now. No one made him come down here and dig, at night, in the dark, when no one would know he was here."</p><p>"You — influenced him," Kolya said. "You played with his mind."</p><p>"You are brave, aren't you?" Thei said, and he smiled a little wider, so that Kolya could see the threat of his teeth. No, it wasn't like that. Thei was just amused, which was somehow worse. "It's more polite to ask than accuse, I think. If I've understood your <em>human</em> courtesy as well as I think I have."</p><p>"What do you mean?" Kolya said. </p><p>"You've never asked me what he was thinking down here in the dark," Thei said. "He wasn't a soft little boy, you know. It took <em>curiosity </em>to come down here all by himself, prying up stones, furrowing in the dirt, opening his mouth to the unknown — "</p><p>
"Stop it," Kolya said. He couldn't let Thei invent excuses like this. He wouldn't allow it. "Where's Vitale?"</p><p>"You know," Thei said, "I never would have found you if Vitale hadn't given you up. Did you know that?" </p><p>Kolya paused. Thei was watching him as if he'd heard it all before and was just letting Kolya go on because it amused him. </p><p>"You're a better spy than Vitale," Thei said, "so don't think any of this is your fault, really." </p><p>"I don't," Kolya said. "I think it's <em>yours</em>." </p><p>Thei laughed, and the sound bounced around the strange room and back down to Kolya's ears. It was a beautiful sound and Thei was beautiful doing it, his head tipped back and his eyes crinkled up with amusement. "Are all Mirans so brave in the face of divinity?" he said. "I remember the first Mirans, before they cracked the land in two and poured their cities in its place. They weren't much to look at then." He looked Kolya up and down with burning eyes. "I suppose things change, when that much time passes."</p><p>More lies — he was plucking from Kolya's mind now, myths and legends.</p><p>"Come here," he said. Kolya resisted for a moment, before shuffling forward, trying not to look or feel the strange floor. It took him a few full minutes to make it all the way to Thei, hands extended to keep his balance, wobbling back and forth. </p><p>"What <em>is </em>this?" </p><p>"Think of it like a graveyard," Thei said. "Maybe that's too morbid. A cenotaph." </p><p>"Whose grave?"</p><p>"Mine, of course," Thei said, with some surprise. "Or rather, I was the only one left."</p><p>The floor was smooth and safe over by Thei's plinth. Behind him there was a chipped-out section of rock, a pile of dark dirt, and shattered pottery lying discarded. Thei watched him look — <em>let </em>him look, as if Kolya looking, Kolya <em>knowing</em> was of no consequence whatsoever. </p><p>"Are you going to kill me?" Kolya asked, dragging his eyes back to Thei.</p><p>"Of course not," Thei said. "I said come here, didn't I?"</p><p>Kolya hesitated, unwilling to close the distance between them any further. Thei did nothing. No attempt to force his hand or tempt Kolya closer. It confused him for a moment, until he realised Thei was enjoying watching him approach of his own free will, warring with himself back and forth; he could see it in the light flush of Thei's cheeks, and the way he did not look away from Kolya.</p><p>"Is Vitale dead?"</p><p>"Why would I kill Vitale?" Thei said. "He's mine."</p><p>"You don't own him," Kolya said. "He's not yours."</p><p>"Is he yours, then?" Thei said. "Are you going to be the one to grant his desires? Ah, I suppose you already do." </p><p>Kolya glared at him, unwilling to move closer. "He's no one's but his own," he said.</p><p>"They're nice words, but they're <em>your</em> words," Thei said. "Even now, you want to think the best of both of them, but it's me who truly knows."</p><p>"I don't understand," Kolya said, warily.</p><p>"I'm beginning to think you never will," Thei said, crooking a finger at Kolya. He scowled. but there was nowhere to go but forward, even if it was making him sweat, making his mind feel like it would rather flee his body than move a step more. Thei crooked his finger once more. There was no choice. Kolya shuffled closer, until he was close enough that Thei could reach out and cup his cheek. Kolya shivered under the touch, fighting to keep still. "Knowledge-seeker," Thei said, his tone still amused. "I don't mind your questions. In fact, I welcome them."</p><p>"If you won't tell me where Vitale is, what about the others?"</p><p>"Where do you think?" Thei said. "Buried in the orchard?"</p><p>Kolya went still. There must have been a thousand men — the blood — bones poking from the soil — </p><p>"What you think of me," Thei said, and stroked his thumb over Kolya's cheekbone like a lover. "I sent them home. I had no use for them."</p><p>"But you do for Vitale," Kolya said. Thei's palm was warm; it felt <em>real</em>. "And me."</p><p>"I have a task for you," Thei said. "If you choose it."</p><p>"I already have a duty," Kolya said. Thei stroked his hand down Kolya's neck, fingertips gliding over his shoulders, and down to his nipples, flicking at one absently. "I have — <em>ah</em> — a duty to Mira. I'm not going to do anything for <em>you</em>."</p><p>"Ah, sweet Mother Mira," Thei said. "You know, I've never seen it. It must be beautiful indeed, to inspire such devotion."</p><p>"If you want to see it, just look around my mind while you're in there," Kolya said, through gritted teeth. He didn't want Thei's hands on him. He wanted to lean into the touch. </p><p>"That's not the same," Thei said. "It would be better if you opened yourself to me."</p><p>"I'd rather die," Kolya spat. "I want to <em>go home</em>."</p><p>"I know," Thei said. He opened the clasp in the ring pierced through Kolya's nipple and slipped it free, placing it beside him on the plinth. A dark spark of power jumped from his fingers to Kolya, closing the hole without a trace of a scar. He followed it with the other. The sensation weakened Kolya's knees; he fought not to collapse forward onto Thei, not to supplicate himself at the altar. "And that's what I want you to do too."</p><p>"I don't understand," Kolya said. Thei pulled free the knotted sheet around Kolya's waist, and the reality of his nakedness crashed down on him, the tremble in his bruised thighs, his half-hard cock and the piercing jutting out of it. </p><p>"I want you to do your duty, Miran," Thei said. His light touch was unbearable as he undid the piercing in Kolya's cock, the spark of healing bringing him almost to his knees, bracing himself on the plinth. "Go make your report."</p><p>"This is a trick," Kolya said.</p><p>"I don't trick," Thei said, mildly. "I'm not the trickster."</p><p>"<em>Why, </em>then," Kolya said. </p><p>"Does it matter?" Thei said. "You said you want to go home, and I'm giving you the chance. Your second chance today, in fact."</p><p>Kolya hesitated. </p><p>"This should be easy for you," Thei said. "Isn't your only desire to return to Mira?"</p><p>"It <em>is </em>easy for me," Kolya said. "<em>Vitale</em> would want me to go too — he'd want me to return to Mira."</p><p>"Are you sure?" Thei said. "Does Vitale think as highly of Mira as you do?"</p><p>Kolya paused, flummoxed. Thei was watching him, and Kolya bristled under his amused attention. It was true; he didn't know if Vitale would understand. But he had to. Jehan just wasn't the same. This was <em>Mira</em>. </p><p>"Listen," Thei said. He reached out and grabbed Kolya's cock, forcing him to shudder and twist to try and relieve the pressure. "Your choice. Leave and return to Mira. Fulfil your duty to Mira <em>and </em>to me in one stroke. Or stay here and I promise I will answer your questions, whether you like it or not." Thei's power flooded into him, a dark, cold rush that left him reeling backwards. Kolya stumbled backwards and caught himself just before falling. Thei was still regarding him. "So, will you stay or go?"</p><p>"Go," Kolya said. He prayed Vitale had been offered the same choice, prayed that he was halfway back to Jehan now.</p><p>"Then I have a parting gift for you," Thei said. He clenched his fist and Kolya tottered back to him, pulled on imaginary strings until he was shored up against the plinth again. Thei put his thumb in his own mouth and bit down on it — Kolya saw him flinch in pain and found it deeply odd. "I've undone everything that was done to you," he said, withdrawing his thumb from his mouth. It left a streak of dark red blood behind on his lip, and Kolya watched his tongue flick out to taste it. "You're a virgin again." He smiled. Kolya flinched. </p><p>"Open your mouth," Thei said, and Kolya was held still. It felt like a huge, invisible hand squeezing his whole body, but his cock had gone soft and there was none of the heat in the pit of his belly that he would expect — that he had become used to. "Open your mouth and you can go." </p><p>Kolya pressed his lips together, fighting the urge to twist his head against the invisible hand. He tried not to think — Thei was watching him, head slightly cocked, listening to what Kolya was thinking, watching his every move. There was no impetus to open his mouth; Thei was waiting for him to make the decision himself. He had to unclench his teeth first, remembering some half-forgotten fragment of his training. Discipline of the mind, discipline of the body to truly inhabit someone else, to become them. Kolya would want to open his mouth to Thei, he thought. Kolya wanted that. </p><p>He parted his lips, mouth barely open, but Thei pinned him with a look. "Wider," he said, and Kolya was a person who wanted to obey, and he did so, opening his mouth wider until Thei smiled and leaned closer. He hooked his finger in the side of Kolya's mouth and pulled it open wider still, reaching deep into Kolya's mouth, stroking the root of his tongue with his bloody thumb. </p><p>"This is for you," he murmured, and Kolya could see the pale, sandy sweep of his eyelashes as he looked down into Kolya's mouth, pulling his thumb in a straight line to the tip of Kolya's tongue, and then withdrew. Kolya's mouth tasted like blood and ash, something burnt and crumbling. He swallowed inadvertently; Thei smiled. </p><p>There was something different about Thei, and now Kolya could tell what it was. He was comfortable in his own skin — in the skin that he was in. The invisible hand released Kolya. He caught his balance and backed away from Thei, who just watched him, indulgently. "Now you can go," he said. "Do your duty."</p><p>"What do I tell them?" Kolya said. He couldn't look at Thei, or the strange honeycomb walls stretching up behind him. "What do I say?"</p><p>Thei shrugged, a comfortable movement of his shoulders. "Tell them what you saw."</p><p>"Tell them — "</p><p>"Tell the truth," he said, leaning back on his plinth in a slouch. </p><p>"You really want me to — "</p><p>"If you keep asking questions," Thei said, "I'm going to think you aren't going." </p><p><em>Did you offer Vitale the same choice</em>? Kolya thought. <em>Did he choose to stay or go</em>?</p><p>Thei watched him; Kolya felt his eyes on him even as he turned and left, and all the way back up the dark corridor, into the light. </p><p>*</p><p>His hurried steps took him all the way back to the entrance in a matter of seconds; the dark veil of the cave lifted so quickly that he came out the other side gasping for air, as if he had been holding his breath for long minutes. Everything was as he had left it, in that strange room caught between cold and warm. Except there was a bag by the door — had it been there before or had someone put it there? He would have noticed something like that. Next to the bag, clothes. Either Thei had signalled someone — Vitale? — or Thei had <em>known</em> what Kolya would choose. And that wasn't a choice at all. He'd known Thei could look into his mind, but there was something about the confidence that suggested something deeper, as if Thei knew him so well that — </p><p>"Shit," he said to himself, dressing quickly. No, that was just trickery, sleight of hand. It was easy to predict what he would have chosen. He slung the bag over his shoulder and darted out through the main doors, the wet grass brushing his calves. Then he <em>ran</em>.</p><p>He ran too fast and too hard, gasping for air. The sky was too wide above him, the ground too endless, the expanse of the steppe stretching out in all directions. Thankfully there was no need to guess which direction to go; all he had to do was turn right and work his way towards the mountains. His steps were careless. The shock of how hard he was going was working its way up his body, his heart thumping, his legs aching, muscles seizing. By the time he skidded to a halt, it was a miracle he hadn't tripped and broken his ankle in some hidden molehill.</p><p>He doubled over to catch his breath. Every direction was too open and barren, no copse of trees to shelter under. The only thing in any direction was the fort. This far away, he could still see the flags flying from the battlements. He could smell the blossoms on the trees. He could taste — He could taste — He spat in the grass and then spat again for good measure, scrubbing at his tongue with his sleeve until all he could taste was cotton. A hint of blood remained in the curl of his tongue, as he rubbed it up and down the roof of his mouth. </p><p>Was Vitale on the steppe too? He twisted around in every direction until his head swam. He could see no one, but that wasn't surprising. Kolya was a spy, not a scout, not a messenger. This wasn't what he was <em>for</em>. </p><p>He turned towards the mountains again and started walking, his pace too hurried to be truly efficient. He didn't have to do what Thei said. He could return to Mira and never breathe a word to anyone — no, that wasn't possible. Fulfilling his duty meant protecting Mira, and that was what he would do, <em>regardless </em>of who had asked him to. He would do it for Mira. </p><p>Too close. He was still too close to the fort's influence, <em>Thei's</em> influence seeping into the ground, the water. He redoubled his stride, his lungs burning as he broke into a jog, looking back over his shoulder again and again. The fort shrank to a smaller version of itself, then a dot, and then it was gone, replaced by endless, tall wheatgrass that whipped against his calves and thighs as he ran, phantom hands whispering across his body. Still too close. It felt like he was wading through the grass, struggling to keep his head above water. </p><p>Water — a rush of a river nearby. He slid down the bank in a rush of loose stones and reeds, kneeling by the edge of the water. He reached down and splashed his hand into the cold water — snowmelt from the mountains, no doubt. It had that frigid edge. He scrubbed at his face with it. It hurt, numbing his cheeks, making his teeth ache down to his jaw. He rubbed at it, thumbing along the line of bone, and then rinsed his mouth and spat into the reeds, pushing the water down around his gums and the back of his throat before hacking it into the grass. There was no blood in it, no ash. It was just water. </p><p>He filled the bottle in the bag. There was a niche of rock next to where he was crouching, and the water filling it was still. Kolya caught a glimpse of his own reflection and recoiled. It felt like he was seeing a stranger from the corner of his eye, far closer than anticipated. His hair was longer than he remembered, long enough that it brushed the back of his neck. Kur soldiers had it clipped short, and so he had always had it that way too. His trainers had cut it every two weeks, as far back as he could remember. Now it still had its winter darkness to it, too, as if he had not stepped outside into the spring sun yet, where it would lighten to a pale gold.</p><p>That wasn't a Kur soldier in the reflection, but it wasn't a Miran either. It wasn't Kolya, it wasn't — anyone.</p><p>"Fuck," he whispered, kicking a rock into the pool and shattering the reflection. </p><p>He climbed back up the riverbank, turning his body towards Jehan again. If Vitale had come this way, there was no sign of him. No little message left for Kolya. No tracks — not that Kolya was a tracker. He only knew how not to leave a trail. Not that he'd done that either, with his track of broken grass and desperate footprints.</p><p>They'd never talked about Jehan, or Mira, or Kur, for that matter. Vitale had always looked exactly like a Kur warrior, and he didn't talk much. But he was always listening, judging by the content of his coded notes, always penned hastily but neatly, with little bits and pieces of information that Kolya had never heard. Which of the soldiers fancied which of the chirurgeons, times and dates of meetings, patrols, secrets of the Kur army. </p><p>But, Kolya thought as he walked, hadn't that changed? When they'd started digging below the fort, Vitale's notes had become more infrequent, with jagged, sparse handwriting. Kolya had thought he'd just had less time to pen them, but — had it been something else? </p><p>That Vitale and the <em>other</em> were connected by the barest thread in his mind. He tried not to think about it; he tried not to remember the physical sensation, being a cup for Vitale to fill with pain.</p><p>The mountains were becoming clearer as he hurried, although the peaks were still wreathed with cloud. He knew very little about Jehan; the scholars had drilled the history of Kur, the language, the accent into his mind. Reading anything else, seeking knowledge of anything else, first earned him a switch across the back of the hand, and then as he grew older, the punishments he was threatened with took on a more Miran edge. </p><p>But he'd never discussed that with Vitale either. Vitale had never told him what he thought about Mirans, had never seemed to have that on-sight hatred for Mirans that most Jehan had. Then again, looking at Kolya wasn't exactly like looking at a Miran.</p><p>He had to get off this accursed land. He could feel it rejecting him with every step that he took, urging him towards the mountains, towards Mira, just away. He thought of the journey that had brought him across the mountains in the first place. Kolya and another — though not really Kolya then — had crossed the border and left Mira without a word of goodbye to anyone. He had had no one to say goodbye to anyway; the army had made sure of that. Accentless Kur, a haircut to let him blend in, twenty years of training, a black eye and a few broken fingers had brought him to the fort, along with the supplies cart he'd hitched a ride on. Kolya'd had a good story, a silver tongue, and a manner so easygoing that he couldn't possibly be suspicious. All that was carefully cultivated; all that was Kolya.</p><p>He stumbled on his own feet and swore. A pair of birds were winging overhead, flying so close together that they almost touched, swooping and diving as one. Kolya raised his hand to block out the sun and watched them for a moment, feeling the wind stir the grass against his body, raising the fine hair on the back of his arm and neck. He was here, or Kolya was, truly here, truly present, for the first time in — he couldn't remember. </p><p>How many days would it take to get to Mira? Too many. Too many for whatever Thei could be doing to Vitale, the agonies he could be in. He had to get there as fast as he could, and they would ride into Kur, flags streaming in the wind, and trample the whole damned place into the ground, burn it, salt the earth and bury the ashes. Dig up the orchard and look for pale splinters of bones, sift through the dirt — deeper, cracking through the shell of the cenotaph and meeting Thei's eyes, seeing his bloody grin — There was no time to waste.</p><p>It took him the rest of the day to get close enough to the mountains that he started being able to see them distinctly, to pick out the different peaks from the clouds and haze. The path ahead of him was difficult, but travelling down to an easier spot would both eat up valuable time and put him on a more-frequented path. He sat down only when his legs would no longer carry him, just at the moment between dusk and night, when the first stars were beginning to appear. He sank down into the grass and rubbed at his aching calves, massaging at the knot of muscle. </p><p>With each step he had taken away from the fort, his mind was becoming oddly — cloudy. He tried to remember the sensation of Vitale's hands on him, the desperate way he would fold Kolya into his body and pin him there, as if he could not bear the chill of them being apart, but the only thing he felt was his own arms wrapped around his chest. Thei had said <em>I've removed everything that was done to you</em>, and perhaps he had meant it. </p><p>He slipped a cool hand inside his own shirt and touched his nipple, just the merest brush with the tip of his finger. Nothing. He felt nothing. He remembered — hazily — that the same touch from Vitale had once brought him to his knees, unable to move or <em>think</em> until Vitale pushed his cock into Kolya's hole, which had felt open for him, always soft and wet and open —</p><p>Nothing. He felt nothing even from the memory. His breath didn't speed up; his heart didn't thump louder in his chest. There was no reaction from him at all. That worried him. He didn't know what to do about that. </p><p>The bag made an adequate pillow. He lay on his back and looked up into the stars. They were absent observers, he thought, watchers in plain sight.</p><p>*</p><p>The moment he stepped over the Jehan border felt exactly like the step before it and the one after. He was in no less danger — in fact, he was in <em>more</em>, he thought, with a hot shock as he reached the bottom of the first mountain, and looked back and forth suspiciously. It didn't really matter; if there were Jehan nearby he might never know before an arrow hit him in the neck. Any Jehan watching him from afar would see nothing more than a wandering Kur, crossing over into somewhere he definitely didn't belong. </p><p>He cursed whatever twist of fate had pushed him into the world looking like <em>this</em>. Not Miran, not Jehan, but Kur. There was no doubt of his parentage, they had told him. He was definitely Miran, birthed from the blood of Mira herself —<em> you are Mira's son, and you will serve as her son </em>— but his features were not. </p><p>There was one advantage to Jehan over Kur, he thought, and that was cover. He ducked into the shadow of a tree and shored himself up against it, putting the pack between his crooked legs. On top was the water bottle he had filled in Kur; he took a long drink and set it aside. A cloak was the next thing. Who had packed this? Someone was invested in Kolya arriving, watered and warm, straight into the arms of whatever Miran spymaster had killed the last one. Vitale? <em>Thei</em>?</p><p>There was something in the pocket of the cloak, something small and hard. He dug around in the pack trying to find the edge of the cloak, the heavy green fabric hindering him. He turned the pack upside down and shook it until its meagre bounty slipped out and bounced on the ground in front of him. Cloak, bottle, <em>socks</em> — that was a strange, personal touch that he didn't wish to dwell on — but no map, no weapons, no food. He clenched his teeth and fought the urge to shout something into the sky. </p><p>The thing in the cloak pocket was a little silver knife. Not a soldier's knife, not even a spy's knife, though it was flat enough to lie hidden in a sleeve. There were little flowers and leaves carved into the sheath. He had seen it before, but he could not remember where. Was this Thei's idea of a joke? The thing looked like it might bend on someone's flesh. He repacked the bag and slipped the knife into his pocket anyway; it was all he had. </p><p>There was no more time to dwell. Even if he was doomed, he didn't have to die in the way Thei intended. He pushed himself back up to standing, ignoring the grumble of his stomach. In a way, even being here was enough. Here, truly here, with his feet planted on the damp, soft ground, the light spring dew evaporating from the leaves and grass, hanging heavy in the air. It wasn't Mira — nothing could compare to Mira — but he wasn't in a position to complain. </p><p>Spring flowers were beginning to poke out of the dark earth. They looked like crocuses and tulips, wakening from their cold slumber and pressing up into a world of cool light and warm wind. He drew closer and found they weren't, instead familiar-unfamiliar flowers that he could not name. Kolya only saw these things as fragments of images, information stored without his conscious thought. He would be able to replay the journey exactly, if asked — he hoped. </p><p>He hadn't given a report in so long. His mind would still, thoughts slowing, words coming honey-slow on a sweet tongue. It was a phantom taste in his mouth already, the promise that he would spill every word, every memory, every <em>touch</em> that had happened to him. It made his blood run hot under his skin to think about recounting it, hot and full of dread.</p><p>He had two minds as he ran: the one focusing on where he was, that controlled his breath and made him look down every three steps, looking for snags or traps, and the one that looked and listened, tasted the air as he whooped in huge lungfuls, pollen and loam and damp earth. He was unfit. He was unprepared. How long had he been lying indolent, naked on silks, damp with sweat and — and — </p><p>That didn't matter. That was gone. He had buried it deep in the part of his mind where only the lull of reporting could access it. </p><p>Did Vitale think this way? Vitale hadn't become stupid like Kolya, just silent. A beast controlled by his urges. Part of his mind cataloguing Kolya's reactions, what made him tremble, made him beg. Would he repeat all that to his Jehan commanders? Vitale, mouth moving slowly, hands hanging in open air by his thighs — his mind tripped on the thinking and he stumbled to a halt in crushed wet grass, head swivelling. He didn't speak Jehan. He couldn't imagine what Vitale would say. Couldn't even imagine Vitale speaking with a Jehan accent.</p><p>Something had caught his eye, a thought worming its way up from somewhere deeper. A flash of green on green — everything was green here, now that he was under the cover of close-knit trees, clustered together on a thin shelf. Not a true valley, just a slip like the mark of a whip on — </p><p>He shook his head. He could imagine Vitale down in the centre of the valley, if he really tried, a different Vitale who tilled the fields and herded the goats, and thought nothing of any Miran with a Kur name. He feared it and wanted it at the same time, a Vitale whose memories had evaporated the moment he stepped over the border, and who would look on Kolya as a stranger — and enemy. A Vitale who had never wanted him at all. He swallowed down through his choking throat, blinking away the sting in his eyes.</p><p>When his vision next cleared, he realised he had stumbled onto a tree overhanging a pond ringed with rocks and reeds, its boughs graced by pale green apples. The tree had grown crooked, with a half-split trunk. He approached. It looked like it had survived a lightning strike, blackened wood grown over. Its boughs were so heavy that some of the leaves were underwater. He could see little fish clustered in its shade, crowding around an ill-grown apple below the pond's surface. </p><p><em>I'm going to remember this</em>, he realised with a jolt. There was no reason to. No one would ask him about this. No one in Mira would care. His debrief would not include a single question about the number of flowers growing in Jehan, and there would be no reason for him to include it, unless he wanted a clip over the ear. Thei wouldn't be interested in hearing it either. And Vitale — Vitale didn't listen.</p><p>He reached out over the still water and twisted an apple from the tree, sending the leaves shivering and the fish darting for safety. He picked two or three more, shoving them into his pack. Halfway through raising the first one to his lips, he paused. Something was twigging him. Something was wrong. </p><p>He turned around, slowly. Was it just a shift in the breeze? He could hear nothing but a distant bird call — no. Whistling. </p><p>There was no time to think about what to do. He took a step towards the pond. No. Away. He leapt for the lowest limb of the closest tree, feet scrabbling on the heavy shards of pine bark. His stomach muscles screamed as he hoisted himself up, skinning his hands and scraping his shins painfully as he thrust himself up the tree, pulling higher and into the needles, hoping it was enough. </p><p>He could hear voices now, carried on the wind, and less than a minute passed before three or four Jehan emerged into the clearing, preceded by a loping brown dog. Fuck, Kolya thought, making his breaths as shallow as possible, the smallest amount of air sucked down into his lungs. His heart thumped against the bark of the tree; he was afraid its sound would alert them. Any sound, any movement, and they would catch him. He'd be dead before he hit the ground, he thought. Or worse, not at all.</p><p>Four Jehan, he thought, two men and two women, unless there were others he could not see. His understanding of Jehan was poor at best. They'd beaten it out of him as quickly as possible, just in case he betrayed himself with a slip of the tongue. He couldn't remember what the words tasted like, how to shape his tongue. He could only recognise the rolling sound of it, the chattering voices overlapping and flowing. None of them were burdened by silence. Or secrets. </p><p>He tried to imagine himself down there, there with Vitale, trading easy banter with his fellows. Would Vitale have a sword by his side? Kolya had never asked. That Vitale would never know him, except perhaps at the end of that sword. But in another world, where it didn't matter what they looked like or who they were, Vitale could grab his arm and pull him closer, whisper in his ear, point out a type of flower or tree. The only sounds in the air would be their laughter, the distant cry of birds, and the slow buzz of the honeybees lazily going between flowers. </p><p>He watched the dog run back and forth, nose pressed to the grass for several moments before any of the Jehan noticed, between picking apples and talking to each other. They seemed like fellows, comrades, one of the women with a long spear and the other with a bow slung across her back.</p><p>There was no question in his mind what would happen if any of them spotted him. The dog was enthusiastically sniffing around the base of the apple tree, tracing Kolya's steps back and forth. One of them called out to it in a questioning tone. Only now could he identify them by the tops of their heads, different shades of brown gleaming in the light. </p><p>He was breathing slow and low, his breath invisible in the rushing wind that was gently swaying the tree. The dog lifted its leg to piss against the tree and Kolya let himself exhale, trying to move with the branches. Laughter burst out below him at some joke, and then they were moving on. He heard a snatch of that whistle again as they vanished into the trees, and then he could just see parts of the sweep of their cloaks, emerald green, dark blue, and brown. He watched the colours until they disappeared, and then for quite a while longer, counting the seconds until they had stretched into long minutes, and he was sure they weren't returning. </p><p>Sliding down the tree skinned his legs again in a bloody rush, his feet fighting for purchase. It didn't really matter, he thought, splashing chilled water on his legs from the little pond. It would be better to return to Mira with blood and bruises than unmarked. He tightened the laces on his shoes and started off again, slipping a little in the damp grass. </p><p>Kolya had to take a strange, diagonal path away from the direction that the Jehan party had gone. They were heading straight towards Mira, even though he was sure that was not where they were going. No Jehan going to Mira would approach it with anything other than dire thoughts, sour faces, and lingering at the border. He'd seen it before.</p><p>He could follow the Jehan, but their path would wind around the base of the peaks, short but treacherous to the unknowing foot. That was him, no matter how many maps he'd studied, which he could see with one eye now, looking into the past. </p><p>Any spies who wanted to travel unseen through Mira had a variety of disguises at their disposal. If he wanted to look less Kur, it would take a moment to blacken his hair, language, posture — but any Jehan looking at him would know immediately that he did not belong. There was no way to fake their scars, or the way they seemed to know every centimetre of their land. That was inherent in some way.</p><p><em>Come to Mira with me.</em> The memory suddenly struck him, as he was ducking under branches and pushing through undergrowth. His steps faltered, then he stopped, standing in a ring of mottled grey-green grass, white-barked birch stark against the green-brown trees. It felt like he had walked straight into a wall. <em>Come to Mira with me. </em></p><p>He could feel it in his left eye, the memory expanding to tingle across his whole body, the hot weight of Vitale crushing down against him, Kolya wrapping his arms and legs around him, pulling him closer until there was no room to breathe between them, his words coming out as strained whispers barely reaching his own ears. <em>Come home with me. </em></p><p>He slapped himself on the side of the head, trying to jolt the memories out of his right eye. It did nothing, the burst of pain faint and unhelpful. <em>Come to Mira — the glass waterfall, the Tree-on-Fire, home</em> — his head was tipped up, body shifting with the force of Vitale's thrusts, but it was Thei's hand around his neck, tipping his chin up so that Kolya's eyes met his, alight with the fire of wonderment. </p><p>He hit himself again, jolting the memory loose from his eye. It fragmented into a thousand pieces and dropped back down into the well of the past, unable to be resummoned. It was a mist fading in the glare of the sun, the world returning in clear and vibrant colours around him. Every step he took churned the memories, even as it made them fade. </p><p>He ran his tongue around his mouth and searched his teeth and gums for a hint of blood or ash. It wasn't possible that Thei's influence could come this far. Kur gods had to stay in Kur, he thought, and there was nothing tying him to Kur except his looks. He squeezed his hands into fists and tried to put Thei from his mind.</p><p>The white birches parted and gave way to thick pine trunks once again, the spring scent of sap heavy and sharp in the air. Birds flew back and forth above him, shaking the bows of the trees and crying out to one another. Alarm calls, he thought, warning each other about him, winging back and forth on black-brown wings. Those alarm calls might travel down a secret bird network, all the way to Mira to whisper in his spymaster's ear — whoever that was, now. </p><p>It was easy to lose track of time in the darkness, as well as direction. He had been going straight, he thought, straight towards Mira like a messenger pigeon, but the sense of home in his heart felt like it had waned or grown weak, in his time in Kur. He just needed some time at home to set it right. </p><p>The pines gave way to a rocky cliff that jutted over an icy river. The valley opened up in a jagged cut below him as the mountain stretched up to a low peak, dwarfed by the mighty shadow of Jehan's biggest mountain behind it, impossibly large and tall; he felt he had to lean back just to get it into view. It cut up into the clouds like a broadsword, dividing them in two in a single thrust. </p><p>The path he was walking was not narrow, but it was thin enough to make him feel uneasy, because he was not a Jehan and was therefore uncomfortable with heights and narrow ridges and rivers where you could plunge in and vanish without a trace. Not only that — he was, right now, a dark blot against the blue-grey stone. Anyone watching would be able to track his path with the barest of effort.</p><p>He raised the hood of his cloak and pinned it tight, despite the fact the wind licked at his hands and legs, trying to pull it free. He kept tight against the cliff until it spat him out on the other side, down where the river was wide and fierce, and he sat to massage his aching calves and eat an apple or two, biting into the crisp white flesh. He tried to savour it but he was too hungry, chewing through one and then the other before stopping to suck in a desperate breath. When had he last <em>eaten</em>? He had no memory of any meal.</p><p>He slept there without meaning to, sitting up against the wide trunk of a tree, nodding against his legs. The unfriendly stars peered down at him, between the fringes of the leaves above. At least the cloak was warmer than he had expected it to be, and it felt like a caring touch, wrapped around him in the cold. </p><p>The next few days were the same. He continued his traversal across the land, which was nothing remarkable, really, apart from the sheer vastness of the mountains; he didn't know why the Jehan were so attached to it. Hunger was sated by plumbing the depths of his woodland knowledge, picking at fruit and berries, and making an attempt to catch a fish. It lay winter-sluggish in the cool water as he crouched there, bare feet numb in the cold water, while it refused to come near his still hand for what felt like an hour. Hunger overtook sensibilities as he quickly tore into it with the little knife. </p><p>With his mouth full of cold fish, he realised, squeezing down on the knife, where he had seen it before. It was Thei's knife, the one he had used to cut herbs from the ground on the steppe outside the fort, or in the garden that he curated, a little figure walking back and forth between the straight lines. Kolya shook it free of viscera in the pond and pushed it deep into his pocket. There was no reason Thei had given him this except to <em>taunt</em> him, and he had better things to worry about. Anything was better than giving Thei the satisfaction of his attention.</p><p>His world narrowed down to just moving forward, one foot in front of the other — until one late afternoon, when the shafts of sunlight were long and deep gold, he looked up, head heavy on his tired neck, and saw. There, in the divine split of two twin peaks, between grey rock and green trees, he saw it. His first glimpse of Mira — <em>shining </em>Mira, in all the poems — and it was past that time of day, but it still glowed resplendent in the afternoon sunlight, gleaming gold as it reflected back the sun's light. </p><p>There was nothing at all like it, and he had missed it since the last time he'd turned around and caught the last fleeting glimpse of its edge disappearing into the clouds. His heart ached for it, and it pushed his steps forward; he was moving with renewed energy, slipping a little in gravel and loose rocks on the mountain path, which was little more than a goat track, hustled along by shepherds and their dogs. He kept an ear out for any sound of sheep or dogs, any clank of a bell or a bark on the open air, but there continued to be nothing. Either no Jehan truly went this way, or they had spotted and were avoiding him — or following him, their bows trained on his golden head. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered now except moving as fast as he could, with no regard for his aching feet or the knotted muscles in his calves. </p><p>Another memory sprang to the forefront of his mind unprompted, as he slid down a grassy bank, his feet failing under him. A grassy hill with a single tree — maple — and a knotted red ribbon hidden in the trunk. It was both here and there; he was seeing it in front of him, but he was looking backwards as well, leaning down to peer through a spyglass on the top of a tower somewhere he could not remember. Only sense memory reigned, the rustle of cloth pulled down over his head and drawn tight, a soft voice whispering into his ear. <em>The ribbon on the tree</em>. </p><p>He pushed himself up and changed his path. Now that he knew exactly where he was, time seemed to pass quickly as he splashed his way through a thin river, snaking its way down towards Mira, stopping only to drink deep and fill his bottle. He was so close now. The border couldn't be more than a few hours' travel from here, even if he had to venture further to find somewhere to cross unobserved. </p><p>Kolya approached the tree slowly, keeping to the fringe of the forest. He took a step towards the tree, his vision doubling between memory and truth, seeing himself step twice. He waited a moment more, carefully casting around for any sign of movement that wasn't a bird or a squirrel, and then hurried out to the tree, plunging his hand deep into the trunk and encountering dead, wet leaves. </p><p>It took him a moment of frantic digging to unearth a muddy length of dull red ribbon. He poured water over it quickly and squeezed it out, knotting it around the limb of the tree and retreating back to safety. He had good eyes — always had — but among the spires of Mira he could see through the trees, he did not know which one held the spyglass, or even if anyone looked through it any more. </p><p>Once a day, they'd told him, with a heavy hand on his shoulder. <em>We will check the tree once a day until you return.</em> All of this had been pressed deep into the memory well until now, where it rose unbidden through a mire of lost thoughts from Kur. Thei might have seen all of this, looking through Kolya's eyes straight down into the depths.</p><p>That night was cool, and the morning colder still, as he sat and watched the flap and snap of the ribbon on the wind, pulled straight and curling back on itself over and over again. The lights of Mira behind it, candles behind stained glass, combined to form a kaleidoscope in front of his tired eyes, blurring with each blink. No one came that morning, or the afternoon, and it was verging on evening by the time he realised he had to make a decision. </p><p>No one in Mira was checking the spyglass. He'd clearly been gone longer than he thought, if they'd stopped. <em>Mira takes care of her sons</em>, he thought, a fragment of a voice drifting past his ear. The ribbon whipped back and forth through the air, without a care as to what he was thinking. </p><p>If he'd returned a week, a month after he'd left, there'd have been ten Miran soldiers here to take him back to his room, the little space in the spire that they'd given him when he first arrived, with its narrow cot and desk. He frowned; he hadn't thought about that in what felt like a very long time. Before he'd left, they'd spent about a week with him in a dark room, a wet cloth on his face, sorting through the memories he had of Mira, pushing things down, bringing others up, until he could step into Kolya and out of — out of — </p><p>The memory changed again, and it was Thei's fingers slipping across his neck, Thei's lips at his ear — that wasn't even how it <em>happened</em> —</p><p>Kolya frowned. The ribbon was still crimson against the blue sky, like a splash of blood in water. No one was coming for him. He stretched, twisting back and forth, until it became just stalling, and he finally pushed himself away from his hiding spot, unknotting the ribbon and stuffing it into the pocket of his cloak. </p><p><em>I'll make the signal myself, </em>he thought, tangling his fingers in the length of the ribbon. <em>I'll go down there myself and tell them everything</em>, everything<em> that happened</em>. But he paused at the top of the ridge, where the drop became sheer, and he could see all of Mira stretching out below him, the city and beyond, the little border town and the garrison stationed there. It would take an hour, maybe two, to walk up to the crossing. He pulled the cloak up around his head and tied it tight. This was the point of no return. It had been so long, but punishment was not to be feared — it was to be endured, to allow it to shape him into a better spy, a better Miran. He needed shaping.</p><p>It took him the better part of an hour to make it to the edge of Jehan, where he could <em>smell</em> Mira, even as the spires of the city had faded, now that he was no longer above them. He stopped close enough to the border camp that he could see the soldiers lighting the torches, smell the tallow in the braziers at the edge. He could see the sentries on patrol, counting them instinctively, their numbers, and how long it took them to complete their circuits. Oh, gods, was he truly about to walk straight into it? No, he had to. This was <em>home</em>. He had to not fear home. </p><p>Two guards. A minute, maybe two. Two more sentries in their tower, watching both ways. Watching for any Jehan. One, two — <em>now</em>. </p><p>The first step was the hardest, but his steps were fleet, light on the grass. It was a straight shot, slipping under the fence, until he was shored right up to the commander's tent, and he could see the candlelight shadow of the commander right next to him, close enough to reach out and touch — </p><p>"That's far enough, I think." </p><p>Kolya whipped around, reaching for the knife — no. He had just a moment to observe the captain's stripes, his hands on his sword, before steel was ringing in the air, halfway between him and the captain. </p><p>"That was a neat trick," the captain said, and moved the vibrating tip of his sword forward to push the hood of Kolya's cloak down, the steel coming close to the shell of his ear. </p><p>Kolya was still, as still as he could make himself, but his mind was tumbling backwards and forwards, trying to dredge up something that was sunk deep and in chains, filled with rocks and weights. But these memories were chilled, trapped deep in the well, never to be touched. He remembered stepping into Kolya, the physical sensation of it, but stepping <em>out</em> — shouldn't he have stepped out when Thei discovered him? </p><p>"I'm Miran," he said, watching the captain look him up and down. The words tasted wrong. "I'm Miran, I'm returning — " </p><p>"What's your name?" </p><p><em>Kolya</em> — he couldn't step out. There was no thread to tug out to unravel Kolya. There was simply nothing there. But <em>Kolya</em> could step forward, into the sword, into — </p><p>"Minat," he said. </p><p>"Minat," the captain said. "Say your passphrase."</p><p>"Blackbird," Kolya said, without thinking. It came from nowhere. </p><p>"<em>Blackbird</em>," the captain said, with an air of disbelief, but his sword wavered and then dropped. Kolya still didn't move, not when the sword dropped, not when the captain reached out and grabbed him by the back of the cloak and dragged him away from the commander's tent, his feet feeling like they were skimming the ground. There was only a second to cast his eye around the camp before he was in the tent — a captain's tent, where Kolya's muddy boots didn't belong on the canvas floor. </p><p>The desk was lit by a dripping candle. The captain swept away the half-written letter before Kolya's eye could retain a single detail, and pushed him down into the seat, one hand keeping him there. "Write it," he said, reaching across him and pulling over an ink palette and a fresh sheet of paper. "Write your name, or I'll run you through."</p><p>Kolya reached out and picked up the brush with his left hand — was that right? Everything in the well was so heavy, and he couldn't remember. There were ten colours in the palette of inks in front of him, most of them worn down to their centres, so you could see the brass of the case underneath. He was taking too long. Ten colours — his name, how many characters did his name have? </p><p>He closed his eyes and sank back into the well. The captain's hand was on his sword; Kolya could tell without looking. He sank back into Minat, but he was only wearing him as a cloak, and not well, fraying and sharp at the edges. Minat knew nothing of the world. Minat did what he was told. Minat was — Miran.</p><p>He opened his eyes. There was his name, the blues and oranges mixing seamlessly, the handwriting the crisp, neat lines of someone who had suffered through endless training, without a mistake. Underneath that, <em>blackbird</em>, written with colours that were wrong and somehow right. </p><p>The captain took the paper, handed it to another soldier that Kolya hadn't even heard enter the room, and moved away. Kolya looked back and up at the captain's face. It was an odd angle, and his face betrayed absolutely nothing, apart from the hard line of his mouth, but Kolya suspected it was always held that way. The captain was holding Kolya in silence, as if he might spring to fill it. Kolya was trained better than that.</p><p>"Who's your spymaster?" the captain said, finally, voice breaking through the sound of the candles guttering in the wind.</p><p>"Are you asking me who's spymaster now, or who was when I left?" Kolya said. There was an easy confidence to his tone he didn't feel. </p><p>"That depends on when you left," the captain said. He might as well have drawn his sword again. Kolya knew a challenge when he heard one — or Minat did. Shit. </p><p>"I never knew his name," Kolya said. That had been important. The master hadn't often attended the training, and he had been impossible to read when he had. It had become a competition to try and impress him enough to stir a smile, or even a frown, from his stern face. Kolya had never won. Perhaps he would now.</p><p>"Who was his commander?"</p><p>Kolya let the question hang in the air for a moment. Minat knew the answer, and touched the back of his neck with ice-cold fingers. "Eday," he said. They'd met once. The day was hazy in his mind — he remembered it had been cold enough to freeze his damp hair to the back of his neck, the bitter spray of the ocean carried on the wind. The sense-memory drew forth the name.</p><p>"<em>Commander</em> Eday," the captain said.</p><p>"Commander Eday," Kolya said, lightly, taking the admonishment for what it was. </p><p>"That's an old passphrase," the captain said.</p><p>"Yes," Kolya said. The captain wasn't giving away anything with his expression or tone; Kolya reflected that. The captain didn't reply, but the soldier returned, quickly and out of breath, passing a note back.</p><p>"You're in luck," the captain said, folding the note. "Commander Eday is here."</p><p><em>Here</em>? Why would any highly-ranked Miran be here, on the edge of the Jehan border? This was nowhere, a scratch on the border. There was no reason for any commander to be here, none at all. Shock trickled down Kolya's spine; he tried not to let it show, still staring ahead into the captain's personal quarters. The bed was made to a rigorous standard, and there wasn't a single personal effect to be seen. Devoted to the army, Kolya thought. A true son of Mira. </p><p>"He's here," he said. The captain was watching him with an incisive eye. Kolya licked his lips, rubbed them together. He wouldn't get very far if he could only parrot back what was said.</p><p>"Let's see if he remembers you," the captain said. He didn't turn, but of course he wouldn't. Kolya stood. His legs threatened to tremble under him for a moment. The weight of his cloak felt immense, his arms tired. One slip, one misplaced look, or one wrong syllable, his tongue putting the weight on the wrong word, and he would be the sheath for that sword. He ducked his head as he left the tent, pushing back into the world. </p><p>He could feel the weight of the captain's eyes on his back, but it wasn't enough to stop him looking around. He'd felt nothing when he crossed the border; it didn't feel real that he was in Mira now. It was a dream — a dream from which he'd wake up back in Kur, the heavy weight of Vitale's arm across his back. </p><p>No. He couldn't think about that. Minat didn't <em>know</em> about any of that. </p><p>The captain nudged him in the back as his steps faltered at the edge of the commander's tent. He wasn't afraid. His heart was slow and steady. It was dim inside the commander's tent, except for the pools of light spilling from candles and braziers. </p><p>"Bring him in," Eday said from behind his desk. Minat remembered him, of course, because Minat remembered everything he'd ever seen. Same dark hair, same neat, short beard, and that same peculiar jocularity, a faint smile on his mouth that was always there. It had rung false to Minat before and it did now. His tone was the same too, as if he knew a private joke. "For God's sake, Mazar, smile for once. Isn't this a good thing?"</p><p>"If he's who he says he is," Captain Mazar said from behind Minat, "perhaps."</p><p>"Come, sit," Eday said, waving a hand absently towards the chair in front of his desk. "You must be exhausted. How many days were you travelling?"</p><p>"Four or five," Minat said, taking the seat and unclipping his cloak with a casual hand. He waited for that strange, honeyed sensation of giving a report to settle over him, but nothing came. It would be easier if Eday brought it on; it would be easier if the words for what had happened to him fell from his mouth and mind, without having to be called upon. </p><p>He swallowed, slowly. <em>There are no words for what has happened to me, </em>he thought. </p><p>"You're very lucky to be here," Eday said. </p><p>"Lucky," Mazar said, with a prominent note of doubt.</p><p>"Don't worry about Mazar," Eday said. "I think he suspects his scarf is strangling him when he wraps it around his neck."</p><p>Minat smiled; he remembered Eday liked it when people smiled. </p><p>"I'm Commander Eday," he said.</p><p>"We've met before, actually," Minat said — a little test — "at the Saltrock." He didn't know the name until he said it, but then he <em>tasted</em> it, like swallowed tears. The test didn't bother him; it felt familiar. Comforting. </p><p>"Of course, how forgetful." Eday looked down at all the papers in front of him; Minat did not. Another little test. "It's been so long since one of the blackbirds came home to roost. You're very late, you know."</p><p>"I know," Minat said. "Unavoidable." He smiled again, and hoped that Eday did not notice how thin-edged it was. Minat was a mask on top of a wan, angry face. Eday was perceptive enough to see beneath it. Anyone who had risen to commander in the Miran army would be.</p><p>"Nothing too unpleasant, I hope," Eday said, casting his eyes over Minat. He knew what he looked like — no visible wounds apart from the scrapes on his arms and legs. No signs of torture, especially not Kur torture. He had all his teeth. </p><p>"I was held captive for a while," he said. "But I was freed." What a joke, Kolya thought, before Minat hastily quashed it. <em>Held captive</em>. <em>Freed</em>. Words, Miran words that were meaningless. How could they make Eday understand?</p><p>There was still no honey on the back of his tongue. Eday wasn't triggering it — on purpose? He wanted Minat to lie. To be <em>able</em> to lie. He wanted to see what Minat would do. </p><p>"You were revealed," Eday said, leaning forward, folding his hands on the table. Something on his wrist caught the light — a golden bracelet. Minat couldn't help looking at it. </p><p>"Yes," he said. No, that wasn't right. "No," he said, after a moment. Eday said nothing. Minat could hear nothing except the slow rhythm of his own breath. "I've seen something," he said, finally. He'd lowered his voice instinctively; Mazar moved closer to his side and Eday leaned in. "I've seen a Kur god."</p><p>"A god," Eday said, thoughtfully. </p><p>"I don't believe it," Mazar said. Kolya bristled at that, and fought to hide it. <em>How arrogant</em>, he thought, <em>to think you can simply not believe.</em> He had the marks on his body to prove it — or rather he <em>didn't</em>. Everything Thei had done to him had washed off his body like old blood. But it was easy for Mazar to dismiss — he had never looked a god in the eyes and begged him to — begged him not to — </p><p>"What do you mean, a god?" Eday, at least, was considering what he was saying.</p><p>He could see and not see Thei's face in his mind. His heart throbbed for a moment, and squeezed tight. Thei was impossible to describe. Minat could faintly hear his mocking laughter, that Minat would even attempt to put him into Miran words. His mouth was dry. "What was a man," he said, slowly. "Now the god lives in his body." Had Minat been eloquent? He could not remember.</p><p>"How?" Mazar said from the side. His face was in shadow. Minat could not tell what he was thinking. Eday's expression also did not change, apart from his mouth quirking at the corner. </p><p>"Oh, Mazar," he said. "Don't be so ridiculous. A <em>god</em>." Minat tried not to frown, but it must have shown in his eyes; Eday raised his hand. "I'm not calling you a liar," he continued. "But a god — the Kur are so superstitious. I'm sure that it's something more like our magic users. Simply a man with arcane powers."</p><p>"A Kur god is still a Kur, after all," Mazar said, and Minat could not tell if there was doubt in his tone or not. Eday took it as agreement, nodding. </p><p>Minat took a slow breath. He'd thought about this. He'd pictured it before, constructing the conversation in his mind, and it had never gone like this. He'd imagined belief, or incredulity, but never indifference. After all he'd gone through for Mira — </p><p>"What have you seen of this Kur's powers?" </p><p>Minat hesitated. Eday still hadn't let him slide down into reporting, and he was unsure why. He wasn't going to lie. Thei didn't want him to lie. Did that mean he should? It didn't matter. He couldn't lie to his commander. He didn't want to. </p><p>"I, ah," he said, and swallowed, his throat dry. Eday waved a hand and his silent squire brought Minat water, which was cold and somehow bitter on his tongue. He could feel it settling inside him like a frozen lake. "He can manipulate people," he said, finally. "Make them different — change them. Change their thoughts." That was a kind thing to believe, wasn't it? It was kindness to himself to phrase it this way, rather than thinking about Thei manifesting <em>his</em> desires, his true desire to be Vitale's plaything, to gasp and writhe under him, broken to his will. His desire to submit to the pressure of Thei's hand around his neck — <em>no</em>. These were Kolya's thoughts, and Kolya was not here.</p><p>"I see," Eday said. "Nothing powerful, then. Nothing warlike." </p><p>"Commander," Mazar said, softly, from his shadows. "I think — "</p><p>"What," Eday said, "Mazar, you're afraid someone might change your <em>thoughts</em>? Until we see a Kur raining fireballs down upon our posts — "</p><p>"We've never heard of this before," Mazar said. "I think it's right to be apprehensive." </p><p>A brief flash of poison in Eday's eyes, quickly suppressed. Mazar stared him down. Minat was caught in the middle. He tilted his head down, shuttered his eyes just a little. Minat had no opinions, only observations. Speaking up now would only draw suspicion. Mazar's hand was near his sword — too near to be an unconscious placement. "They could send anyone with tainted thoughts," Mazar said.</p><p>"Blackbird, are you here to kill me?" Eday said, leaning forward. The bracelet on his wrist shone against the dark wood of the table. "Did the Kur god send you here to kill?"</p><p>"No," Minat said. It was true, but he didn't see why Eday would believe him. Though he could just make Minat tell the truth — why was he <em>trusting</em> him? </p><p>"Not that we'd worry if you were," Eday said. He waved his hand at his squire again, who came forward, and they exchanged a few quick words. Minat could see the squire looking at him, the fear in his eyes. He was young, and Minat knew what his instincts were telling him. <em>The enemy. The enemy. The enemy is right in front of me.</em> He didn't need a mirror to know what he looked like; the squire was right to fear him. </p><p>He looked down and away. It was true. He was a threat. But not in the way the squire thought. For a long time, he'd wished he'd been born more Miran, but those thoughts were old now. The way he looked had brought him to Vitale, after all.</p><p>"And what about your <em>friend</em>?" Eday said. Minat looked up. For a moment he didn't know what he meant. Minat had no friends. Minat had no one at all. But Eday's tone made the connection. Eday didn't mean an equal, not at all. "Did you make contact with the Jehan?"</p><p>"Yes," Minat said. Kolya had — had made contact with Vitale. "I — I did make contact with the Jehan spy."</p><p>"And?"</p><p>"We worked together for a time," he said, "but the god — the mage — took him under his influence."</p><p>"Good," Eday said. Minat felt his shoulders rise, and fought to suppress it. Kolya had tried so many times to save Vitale. Save him from Thei — and from himself. Even without a specific memory to call upon he knew that, down to the memory of suffering that was in his blood. For all Thei said, no one could truly want to be like that. No one. <em>Let me raise an army</em>, he thought. <em>Let me lead the Miran flag down there. I'll dig him out with my hands if I have to. </em>None of that showed on his face, but it didn't matter. Eday wasn't looking at him, though Mazar was, his eyes gleaming in the dull light. "That's very good. The Jehan won't know about the Kur mage, then."</p><p>The squire returned with a plate of food, bread toasted with jam and a baked egg, and placed it before Minat. He was so afraid to come closer to Minat that the plate quivered on the edge of Eday's desk. Minat made no move towards it, even though his mouth was wet with hunger, his stomach rumbling. Eday was watching him wait, like a dog trained to command. </p><p>"This is all excellent news," Eday said. His mouth was still quirked into the same half-smile, but a hint of it reached his eyes now. "You've done very well, Minat. The Jehan spy stays, and it doesn't sound like this mage is any threat to us."</p><p>Kolya's fingers spasmed, cramping in a harsh grip against the wood of the chair. Not a threat — not a <em>threat</em>? For a moment he felt Vitale's big, hot hands on his hips, that same sensation of Thei turning Kolya's head up to meet his gaze, and he saw himself as Thei saw him, a wriggling <em>thing</em>. Something to pull the wings off and discard, just to see how his face would twist in pain — </p><p>"You may eat," Eday said. "You've travelled far, but you're home now." </p><p>Minat licked his lips. He could not escape his human instincts, and fell upon the plate with the knowledge that Eday might take it away at any time. His world narrowed down to the hot bread and soft egg, and everything else only returned when he was wiping his face with a napkin he couldn't remember being handed. </p><p>Mazar was speaking quietly, ending on a question. Minat's ear had caught it, but he'd have to dip deep to find out what had been said.</p><p>"Get the other officers," Eday said to the squire, who looked relieved to be ducking out of the tent. Minat wasn't bothered by the squire's fear of his face, because it made him too scared to meet Minat's eyes. In those, he thought, there was something truly to be afraid of. But an uneasy tension had settled over the squire's departure. Perhaps he thought he'd be next to face punishment if he stayed.</p><p>There was now a steaming bucket of water next to Minat's chair. He knew why, and bent to clean his hands, scrubbing at them as best he could, digging out a little of the Jehan dirt. He would not really be clean, but he washed himself as best he could, and felt better for it as he wiped his face and folded the towel again. It was nothing close to what Miran courtesy demanded, but he knew some of what was coming next, and it wasn't unusual. Goosebumps ran up and down his bare arms, just from the chill of the air. </p><p>"Stand up and come a little closer," Eday said. Minat did as he was told. "You've brought home very useful information." </p><p><em>You've asked the wrong questions</em>, Kolya thought, and his breath was cold on the back of Minat's neck, urging him to raise his bent head, and look Eday in the eye — to let Kolya look Eday in the eye. </p><p>But he did nothing. Minat did what he was told. Minat was very good at doing what he was told. Mazar was still watching him; Eday was not, returning his gaze to the papers on his desk as if Minat was not standing in front of him at all. </p><p>"But you've also made mistakes," Eday said. "You were meant to be here months ago. You were meant to send reports — you and the Jehan. There's no excuse for such dereliction of duty. What if your lack of information had caused harm to Mira? You know what you must do to atone."</p><p>"I do," Minat said. </p><p>"We don't have the resources or the ingenuity of the Saltrock," Eday said. "And in all honesty I'm not prepared — Mazar, what do I have?"</p><p>Mazar was frowning when he stepped forward. For once, Minat could tell exactly what he was thinking — <em>I'm a captain, not your squire</em> — but he said nothing as he opened the slim cupboard behind Eday's desk. His hand was still near his sword. He clearly thought Minat might leap at Eday at any moment. Ridiculous. Eday would kill him without hesitation.</p><p>"Cane or paddle," Mazar said. Eday turned and looked at Minat, arching an eyebrow. </p><p>The cane — he could already feel it landing across his ass, an aftershock from the memory well. It would jolt things free and flood him with sensation. He knew that without having to think about it.</p><p>"Paddle," he said. He could take it. He <em>would</em> take it. The heavy, blunt hits wouldn't awaken anything in him. They didn't send a sick thrill down to the bottom of his stomach. </p><p>Mazar shrugged and retrieved the paddle. It did look heavy, made of dark wood, with blunt ridges carved into it. Minat could tell the weight of it just with his eyes. </p><p>"Minat," Eday said, then, "Blackbird."</p><p>"Yes," Minat said. He couldn't drag his eyes away from the paddle. </p><p>"Minat," Eday said again, "how grow your fields?"</p><p>"Fallow," Minat said, and he had just half a second to catch a breath and think<em> why now?</em> before he was sinking into honey; it was welling up from the back of his throat to flood over his teeth and tongue, dripping over his lips. His vision was slow, blinks long and heavy. His body relaxed, swaying on his feet, the world blurry and dim. Thoughts were slow, and the memory well was dark and silent, the water still. There was nothing beneath the surface, nothing at all. </p><p>"Put your hands on the desk," Eday said. Now Minat had his full attention, as he leaned back in the chair. Minat did as he was told, leaning forward and placing his hands on the papers there. He looked down, but the words were meaningless smears of colours that stayed incomprehensible, no matter how many times he blinked.</p><p>Eday knew he was looking; Minat heard his chuckle from behind him and all around, moving with the flicker of the light. He knew he should be stripping, but he couldn't make his hands move, a small noise of distress pushing through his teeth. </p><p>"Don't worry, blackbird." Eday looked down beneath the desk and spoke a few words that Minat couldn't parse; they swam around his head for long seconds as he fought to understand them. Had he said <em>the</em>? Had he said a name?</p><p>Movement on his right. Eday's bracelet was moving on its own. Magic, he thought, his seeing eye straining to focus. </p><p>No, not magic. There was someone emerging from the side of Eday's desk. Impossible. There couldn't be another person in the room — a person that Minat hadn't even noticed. They'd have thrown him from the top of the Saltrock if that had happened in training.</p><p>He watched the dark head emerge against the backdrop of light, long dark hair bound back in a simple tie. He couldn't see much more; Eday was holding his gaze and he couldn't break it. It went against every instinct he had not to observe, but in the honey it didn't matter.</p><p>The chain slipped across the desk. Eday leaned forward to give it more slack. All Minat could tell was that it was a small man with a sharp face, his hair hanging down over his eyes, his movements slow and confused. A Miran man, his hands seeking around the corners of Eday's desk. For a moment it felt akin to looking into a mirror, even though they looked nothing alike.</p><p> "First," Eday said. "One stroke for each month you were late to report. Do you understand?"</p><p>"Yes," Minat said. </p><p>"How many strokes is that?"</p><p>"I — " He couldn't answer. Couldn't think. "I don't know."</p><p>"Don't know? Don't they have calendars in Kur?"</p><p>"He has to know," Mazar said.</p><p>"He can't lie," Eday said, softly. </p><p>"Then he'll just have to count," Mazar said.</p><p>"Hush for a moment, Mazar," Eday said. "Show some respect to our little blackbird." Minat could hear the smile in his voice. <em>I can take this,</em> he thought. <em>I'm Miran.</em> Not a true Miran, perhaps. A true Miran would be half-hard already just from the anticipation. But Minat could handle pain just as well. "Lean forward a little."</p><p>He did so, putting his weight on his forearms flat on the desk. It pushed his ass out and he knew it, but he couldn't disobey the order, his thighs tense with anticipation. It was so hard to think. He was leaning on important papers, and he should read them, but they were nothing. Anyway, read them and tell who? </p><p>Eday swung the paddle but didn't hit him; he felt the rush of air over his back. He could see Mazar out of the corner of his eye, sitting now. His mouth was pinched tight, brows furrowed. He wasn't looking at Minat, but down at his feet. 

"A moment," Eday said, and tugged on the chain. The man below Minat made a soft sound as his wrist was pulled with it, raising his other hand in turn. "I can't go easy on you, blackbird." Minat felt the man's fingers hook into the waistband of his trousers, and pull them down, slowly, then his smallclothes.</p><p>A whoosh of air — this time the paddle hit Minat, jolting him forward against the desk. The solid, thumping hit shook all of him, forcing a a punched-out uh into the air. Eday wasn't holding back, hitting Minat with the full force of the swing, knocking his thighs against the edge of the desk. Minat wanted to twist, to protect himself, but Eday hadn't ordered that. </p><p>Movement at the corner of his eye — he had missed others entering the tent, exchanging quiet words with Mazar. They were barely paying attention to him at all; it was like he was a centrepiece, a thing. How could he have missed it? It was impossible for his attention to have lapsed. </p><p>Their voices overlapped around him. There were two officers who had entered. He tried to catalogue each of them, but their faces were blurred, and he could not fix them in his mind. Four officers. Mazar, Eday, and the two who had just entered. Somewhere in the memory well he knew the names of Eday's officers, Pakhyn and Beso. Both had a reputation for cruelty, although in different ways.</p><p>"Are they all like this?" one of them said.</p><p>"Just the blackbirds," Eday said. "And it's not really meant to be used like this — it's for secret memories, codes, and such." </p><p>The speaker chuckled. "No one else would've thought of this, Commander."</p><p>"I suppose I'm just more curious than most," Eday said. He struck Minat again; he heard the impact and felt the whoosh of air at the same time it hit him, his senses betraying him. It knocked his ribs against the desk, the slap of wood hitting skin almost a bang in the quiet room. Tears sprang to his eyes as the shock of pain travelled up his back and down his legs, which shook against the man underneath him, crowding him against the desk. </p><p>"Come away from there, <em>rhahat</em>," Eday said. The chain brushed against Minat's calf as the man shifted slowly away from Minat's body, a cold counterpoint to the heat building in his thighs and ass. Minat didn't know that word — that name, he thought, but it stirred something deep in the well, which was still closed off to him. </p><p>"What have you done to him this time, Commander?" </p><p>"Never you mind," Eday said.</p><p>Someone — Pakhyn — was coming around the other side of Minat now, circling behind Eday. Minat could see the edge of his uniform, the sword at his side. He had light brown hair, close-cropped in a military fashion, and his posture was that of a veteran soldier. His only defining features were the jagged cut that had sliced off the tip of his ear, and the scar that continued down across his cheekbone. That, and the light in his eyes as he looked down at the man on the chain. </p><p>"If it was mine, I wouldn't keep it drugged up all the time," Pakhyn said, nudging at the man's leg with his boot. The prisoner's head lolled on his shoulders, as if he could barely stand to keep it up.</p><p>"Then you should work harder to be promoted," Eday said, and hit Minat again. He gasped. There was no relief in it; there was no arousal building from the strikes, despite the heat that was building under the surface of his skin. </p><p>"Does it feel good, blackbird?" Eday said. </p><p>Minat's muscles locked, bitterness rising at the back of his throat, mixing with the honey. He wasn't supposed to — at the Saltrock they had trained him not to. <em>Kolya</em> could, Kolya wasn't Miran, they hadn't told Kolya not to, but Minat wasn't supposed to have an interest. That was why they had to direct his Miran nature away, make him not think, not <em>desire. </em></p><p>Eday knew that. Of course Eday knew that. He knew that he shouldn't — that it wasn't right.</p><p>"No," Minat said. His voice was choked with tears. They were in his eyes, too; they'd started dripping down his face without him noticing, dotting the papers below him.</p><p>"Oh?" Eday said. "You have been in Kur too long, then. I've had many a man surrender to his nature over this desk." This was Eday's impetus to hit him harder, until Minat was rocking forward onto his toes with every strike, his whole ass hot and aching. He was desperate for — something. Something huge and overwhelming that he could not name.</p><p><em>Was</em> it supposed to feel good? He was Miran, made to take pleasure from pain. But this was punishment, wasn't it? Unless — Eday liked it when people <em>smiled</em>. Eday wanted — more from him. </p><p>"Blackbird," Eday said. "You've been gone for a long time. Some things have changed." </p><p>Minat couldn't focus. The man on the ground was leaning against him again, a warm, heavy weight like a tired dog. What <em>was </em>this? A prisoner? No, he looked too Miran to be a Kur or Jehan prisoner. Another spy? But even Eday would never treat a spy like this. Minat could feel his shuddery breaths. A hand curled around Minat's ankle, but he didn't think it was meant for comfort — the man was steadying himself. </p><p>"Back when you were trained," Eday said, "it was thought best to strip you of your Miran nature, so that the Kur would not suspect you of our proclivities." He hit Minat again, knocking a half-drawn breath out of him. "I don't see the advantage," Eday said. </p><p>"Speak when you're spoken to," said Pakhyn.</p><p>"He's under," Eday said. "He can't." A chuckle — Minat tried to close his eyes, but they wouldn't answer, beyond the habitual blink.</p><p>Minat tried to dig down into the honey, but there was nothing underneath it, just more rich sweetness — he needed <em>Kolya</em>. He needed Kolya to imagine that it was Vitale on the other end of the paddle, and that Thei's hands were around his neck, his thumb over his pulse, ready to push down. But Kolya had drowned and been swept away. </p><p>Eday hit him again and again, until Minat, his head bent down low and his shoulders sharp in the air, could feel nothing but the burning flush of his skin. Eday had been thorough. Thorough enough that from the tops of his thighs to the top of his ass burned with dark heat. He had lost count completely. Eday could have lied and hit him a hundred times. Or a hundred could be how many months he'd been gone. He had no way to know. </p><p>"Tell me," Eday said. "Did you fuck anyone in Kur?"</p><p>"No," Minat said. His throat fluttered. "I didn't fuck anyone in Kur." It sounded dreamy. It was true. It had to be true. He couldn't lie in the honey. It was a lie — a true lie. Minat hadn't fucked anyone in Kur. Minat hadn't <em>been </em>to Kur. </p><p>"It's almost a shame," Eday said, looking up. "That's an ass that deserves to be fucked." </p><p>"And you believe him?"</p><p>"Check yourself, if you don't," Eday said. Minat felt like a rabbit with a leg caught in a trap.</p><p>"I'll have a look," Pakhyn said, and he was closer than Minat remembered, his hands skimming over Minat's skin with the barest touch. It made him shiver even through the trance, like sparks from a fire had been struck against his flesh. His hands were calloused like Vit— like a warrior's, as he parted Minat's arse and whistled, low. "He's telling the truth, Commander. No Kur has had the pleasure," he said. Minat flushed, a painful red. </p><p>"Still, perhaps he truly has become Kur," Eday said. "It might take more to awaken his Miran nature again." Minat heard him put the paddle down. Pakhyn pressed a dry thumb against his hole and then retreated. The slight pressure made Minat shiver, his legs threatening to buckle. "No, there's something there. Stand up, Minat." Minat obeyed; there was nothing else he could do. </p><p>"I don't think it makes you a better spy to deny yourself," Eday said, stepping closer. Minat's back was straight, but there was an involuntary tremor running from the top of his shoulders down to his calves, his muscles jumping at random. Eday touched the back of his head, tugged at the curls there. "In fact, I think you could be quite a lure, if properly applied. Do you understand what I mean?"</p><p>"No," Minat said, but the word was breathless. </p><p>"No matter," Eday said, and he touched the back of Minat's neck, his finger skimming lightly across the line of Minat's shoulder. "That was punishment — you still deserve a reward." Minat still couldn't move. "Strip," Eday said. Minat pulled off his shirt, feeling bereft as the thin material slipped free of his chest. A Miran shouldn't feel uncomfortable in front of other Mirans. This was his duty; this was his reward. "You may get on the bed." </p><p>His steps were shaky, eyes fixed forward. The rest of the world seemed to blur, except for Eday's bed, the red covers becoming clearer and clearer as he drew closer. The others followed, their shadows stretching high on the walls around him. He got onto the bed, and stopped, confused. Eday hadn't told him what to do — no one was telling him what to do —</p><p>"Blackbird," Eday said, "how many in your aviary?"</p><p>"Seventeen," Minat said, and coughed the last of the honey out of his mouth, falling forward onto the bed as the grip released him. <em>Oh, no</em>, he thought, clawing at the bedsheets and trying to pull himself up. His face was red; he was aware of how he was covered in sweat, and the deep bruises that were forming on his ass and thighs. Everything burned — the sheets felt rough and coarse underneath him, his sweat-damp hair like crawling fingers on the back of his neck. He wanted to go back, back to where everything was soft and hazy, where it didn't matter that his legs still ached from walking, or that he could still feel just the barest pressure of Pakhyn's fingers against his hole. </p><p>Now, out of the honey, his heart was building up speed, its panicked thumping jolting at his chest and pushing at his ribs. <em>Oh, no</em>, was all he could think again. He wanted to kick — to <em>run</em>. But he had to stay still of his own accord now, his limbs shaking as he fought for composure and lost. </p><p>There was a soft touch on his leg; he turned around as fast as possible, nearly knocking the chained man off the bed.</p><p>"Sorry about all that," Eday said, but his mouth was still smiling. "A little test. I'm sure you can understand my reasons."</p><p>"Yes," Minat said, with a calm he did not feel. He smiled, although it was obviously shaky. He was meant to be pleasing. Eday was close; he had to be, because of the length of the chain. But the others were surrounding him too, their shadows large on the red bedsheets. Eday behind him, Pakhyn on his left, and Beso on his right. Beso was big — though not as big as Vitale. </p><p>But Mazar hadn't moved at all, still sitting in the shadows by Eday's desk, his hand on his sword once more. Minat couldn't read the expression on his face at all. As he watched, Mazar stood, then turned and left the tent without a look back. Only Minat had noticed; only Minat had seen the dark anger that settled over his face and body as he turned.</p><p>"Mira rewards her sons," Eday said, flicking out with the chain so it snapped in the air, dragging on the prisoner's arm. "Rhahat, do as you're told."</p><p>Light danced on Rhahat's face, as his fingers slipped on Minat's calf. Words vied for place on Minat's tongue — <em>this isn't necessary, I don't want this, </em>he <em>doesn't want this — </em>but none of them made it to the air. They would see him for what he was and run him through right there. Or Rhahat. </p><p>Minat could see his eyes, now, more pupil than iris, his blinks slow and confused. Pakhyn hadn't been joking. Eday had given him something. He would pause every few moments to try and push his hair out of his face, tucking it back into its tie, but it would fall forward again with any movement. He had a sharp chin and dark eyebrows to match his hair, but they were furrowed in confusion, the dark sweep of his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. But his fingers, fumbling on Minat's leg, knew what they were doing. </p><p>"A taste of things to come, I think," Eday said, "When you return to the Saltrock, you'll find the training has very much changed. Miran birds are more useful with Miran knowledge. The Kur can't resist that." </p><p>Minat was acutely aware of three things. First, his nakedness, and the eyes of the officers on him. Second, how uncomfortably soft his cock was, and not a single gentle touch was stirring it — not the brush of Rhahat's hair on his inner thigh, and not the warm, wet touch of his tongue to the head of Minat's cock. Third, and worst of all, was the hard gaze of each officer upon him, watching his every move. The way his feet shifted on the covers. The way his head turned slightly from side to side. He swallowed with a dry throat.</p><p>Rhahat bent and took Minat's soft cock into his mouth, looking up at him with those huge grey eyes. Minat grunted, a shocked noise, but he felt no response. Desperate, he tried to summon memories, and found the well empty. Minat had nothing to draw on, not like Kolya did. He tried to force it, thinking about Vitale's hands, huge enough to wrap around his whole hip, and Thei's hot, mocking laughter, but nothing flared in response. None of those things had happened to <em>him</em>. </p><p>Rhahat made a little noise at the back of his throat. Encouragement? Derision? His grey eyes were confused and a little desperate. <em>Think of what they will do to me</em>, they were saying. <em>Think of what they will do to us</em>. The moment stretched — went on — <em>stopped</em>.</p><p>Bitter ash at the back of Minat's mouth, the root of his tongue blackened with it, crawling up through his gums and teeth. He bent backwards, a rictus on the bed, his head tipping back, and coughed a cloud of ash and blood into the air. </p><p>Everything around him was frozen still. The candles did not flicker. No one blinked, or twitched. Only the cloud moved. Slowly, it descended, glimmering in the frozen light, and it twisted as it fell, taking on the shape of — Thei. </p><p>A Thei made of ash and blood settled on the bed, which did not dip under his weight. The features of his face formed in darkness, and then his eyes opened, blinking wetly as colour flowed back into him. He looked the same as the moment when Kolya had last seen him, the loose white shirt, the carefree curls tousled across his forehead, the bruises on his neck. </p><p>He looked back and forth, then up and down. Kolya saw the moment Thei realised what was going on — the slap of shock across his face, followed by a cold contempt, looking down upon Kolya.</p><p>"I give you your freedom and this is what you do?" Thei said, reaching for Kolya's neck. Unreal as he was, Kolya felt that bruising grip, crushing at his throat, the throb of his heart pinched in Thei's fingers. "Run back to Mira to fuck the first person you find?" He looked around. "And like <em>this</em>? I must admit I know little of Mira now, but <em>this </em>— "</p><p>Kolya's hand was thrown up near the pillow. He was afraid to move, afraid to even try and breathe past the crush of Thei's hand, but he risked it, forming two spy signals with his right hand, over and over again, <em>help, me, help, me </em>— Thei shouldn't know Miran spy signals, but he had come from Kolya's tongue, and he had already seen everything Kolya knew.</p><p>Thei appeared to grow larger in his incandescent rage, swelling until he seemed to take up the whole bed, stretching up to the canopy of the tent, but he cast no shadow. His face was twisted with rage. "I let you consume part of me and this is how you repay me? If you wanted to fuck you could have stayed — " </p><p>His eyes dropped to Kolya's hand, and he shrank back down to the bed, slowly, pulling his hand away from Kolya's throat. Kolya dared to suck in a breath. </p><p>"You're cleverer than I gave you credit for," Thei said. "Perhaps I was too quick to make you stupid."</p><p>"Do something," Kolya whispered, barely daring to move his lips.</p><p>"Do what?" Thei said, and he stroked Kolya's cheek, pushing his hair back from his sweat-damp forehead. "I'm not really here, you know. I'm just the part that I gave you."</p><p>"Please," Kolya whispered. He could feel sweat trickling down the back of his neck. </p><p>"I don't see why I have to finish what you've started," Thei said, looming above Kolya. "You chose to leave. You're no longer my responsibility." </p><p>Kolya looked back up at him. The words fell flat, bouncing off his memory of the choice in the crypt. Thei had known very well that it was no choice at all. <em>I'm not your anything,</em> he thought. <em>I never was.</em></p><p>But he hesitated to voice his thought, his eyes darting between the Miran officers. None of them moved; Pakhyn hadn't drawn his sword. Even Rhahat's eyes were still fixed on him, unblinking. Thei had done something — Thei had stopped time? </p><p>"You can talk," Thei said. "I haven't done anything of the kind. This is all you. By the time you finish blinking, everything will return to normal."</p><p>"They can't hear me?" </p><p>"You better hope they can't," Thei said, casting a sly sideways glance at Kolya. "Considering you're talking to yourself in Kur."</p><p>Kolya snapped his mouth shut. Minat had evaporated. Even the memory well was beginning to fade again, its depths draining dry.</p><p>"Let me explain again," Thei said, leaning close enough that Kolya could notice there was no puff of breath with his words. "I am not here. I am a trap that I set for you. I will not help you." </p><p>"You sent me into <em>this</em> trap," Kolya said, the words passing his lips in a furious whisper. He didn't trust the unmoving light, the lack of Thei's shadow. There was no reason to suspect that the world wouldn't come unstuck at any moment, and he didn't want to be halfway through a sentence. "Why not?"</p><p>"Why <em>not</em>?" Thei said, and his laugh was sincere. "Why should I?"</p><p>"After what you did to me — "</p><p>"I only did what Vitale wanted," Thei said, sniffing and pushing his hair back from his forehead, arching a proud eyebrow. "I don't owe you anything." He twisted around, and Kolya watched him cast his eye around the room. "If this is how Mirans fuck," he said, "why do you need my help? Isn't this enough men for you?"</p><p>"Please," Kolya said. "If you don't help — "</p><p>"You're that afraid of it being bad?"</p><p>" — they'll kill me."</p><p>Thei's eyes narrowed fractionally, but it was enough for Kolya to taste hope. "What?" </p><p>"They'll probably run me through and leave my body in the dirt," he said.</p><p>"Why?" </p><p>"Because <em>I'm not who they think I am</em>." </p><p>"You're Miran," Thei said. "How am I meant to help with Miran business?"</p><p>"I — " Kolya stuttered. "I was Miran. I — I don't know what I am."</p><p>Thei turned, curious. There was no fire in his eyes, but there was a spark. </p><p>"You don't know what being Miran means," Kolya said — begged. "You can't understand it. I don't want this."</p><p>Thei shifted closer. "I've seen you enjoy things you don't want."</p><p>Kolya flushed. </p><p>"Anyway, why do you think I'd help you?" Thei said. Things were beginning to come unstuck around the edges; Kolya could feel the slightest breath of a breeze against his skin, see the edge of Eday's eyelash begin to stir. </p><p>"If you don't care what happens to me," Kolya said, pinning Thei with his gaze, "why set a trap for me at all?"</p><p>Thei glared back.</p><p>"And why set <em>this </em>trap?" Kolya said, with a calm he did not feel. "Why not just kill me if I do something you don't like?"</p><p>Thei's glare intensified. The air shook with it, trembling, the light growing dim around them. <em>Oh, gods,</em> Kolya thought. <em>Oh, gods.</em></p><p>"I'm already listening," Thei said, and his face broke open into a smile, the white flash of his teeth sharp-edged. "You're dangerous, aren't you?"</p><p>"Yes," Kolya said. He felt raw, flayed by his own truth. Nothing was more dangerous than knowledge and the mind to use it. Thei hadn't seen it; he had been forced to see it now. "I am."</p><p>"So am I," Thei said. "Lie back, quickly. Do as I say." </p><p>Kolya did. <em>I need you to undo what you did to me,</em> he thought, looking up into Thei's eyes. Thei stared down at him, and Kolya swallowed, remembering the grip of Thei's hand around his jaw, turning his head up, turning him away from Vitale. </p><p>"Why?" Thei said. "Would they fuck you harder if you looked more Kur, with your jewels?" He looked down, gaze raking across Kolya's nipples."</p><p>The light was flickering now, slowly, and he could feel the slide of Rhahat's tongue against his soft cock resuming, as Eday's blink completed, his eyes remaining closed for half a second longer than they ought. Time was normal again. Thei tossed his head, looking around the room once more, now all the Mirans were stirred back into motion. Pakhyn looked down at him with something between desire and derision; Kolya fought not to meet his eyes and draw his attention. The only safe place to look was Rhahat, with his desperate, hazy eyes and flushed cheeks half-covered by black hair.</p><p>"Untie his hair," Thei said. He was leaning close to Kolya now, so close that he ought to have been able to feel his body heat, smell his scent, but there was nothing. Kolya did as he was told, reaching down and tangling his hand in the soft strands of Rhahat's hair and releasing it from its tie. It came down like soft silk across his thighs. His touch was gentle, but Rhahat jolted forward as though it had been rough, making a choking sound in his throat. With his hand, he pinched Kolya's inner thigh, hidden under the curtain of his hair. </p><p>"Oh?" Thei said, throatily, amused. "What do you need me for? You've got an ally already."</p><p>
  <em>I can't — </em>
</p><p>"Stop thinking at me," Thei said. "I feel like I'm talking to myself." </p><p>
  <em>What do you suggest — </em>
</p><p>"Just imagine speaking," Thei said, and he sounded <em>bored</em>. Rhahat's tongue moved insistently against the head of Kolya's cock, and it made him want to squirm, curl his toes, but his cock was unresponsive. "I'll take care of the rest."</p><p>"I can't get hard," Kolya said, in Kur, and no one killed him, so Thei seemed to be telling the truth. "I can't <em>feel</em> anything. Please undo it, if I can't get hard, if I can't fuck him — "</p><p>"I didn't do that," Thei said, frowning. He looked down at Kolya with burning eyes, and Kolya couldn't help gasping, a soft, wet sound. Rhahat pinched his inner thigh again, insistently. </p><p>A hot tingle began on the back of his neck, a flush rushing down over his chest. It started slow, a soft, invisible stroke of a hand over his chest, another gripping his hip, phantom fingers sliding over his thighs. He gasped, quietly, his cock beginning to fill, his stomach clenching, his calves rubbing on the bed. It was like all his senses were reopening. He was suddenly aware of his body, of the wet slide of Rhahat's tongue, the little noises he was making against Kolya's skin.</p><p>"Ah," Kolya said, and that had issued out into the world. He could see the light in the officers' eyes and he knew that he should be disgusted, afraid, but the heat of their gazes had begun to feel good, a hot pressure against his cold skin. His nipples peaked, and he could feel the pulse of his blood all over his body, in his thighs, the back of his knees. He could feel every small movement Rhahat made with his tongue, the pressure, the insistent rub over the head. The muscles in his thighs were shaking. His skin felt raw; every touch was striking sparks into his blood, his cock hardening, feeling blood-hot and huge, his balls aching. </p><p>Rhahat made a little surprised noise, and moved forward, Kolya's cock bumping at the back of his mouth. God, it felt so good, so good that he couldn't think past the pleasure, the heat and the wetness of Rhahat's mouth, and he wanted to come so much. He wanted to fill Rhahat's mouth with it.</p><p>Thei's hand was on his forehead, but he couldn't feel it. Couldn't feel anything but the throb of blood in his cock, Rhahat sucking like his life depended on it, moving his head. Kolya was gasping into the air, unable to control his voice, loud and desperate. </p><p>"You're going to come, aren't you?" Thei said. "What must they think of you, to come so easily." He stroked Kolya's forehead. It was an odd sensation, feeling it and not at the same time. A little tender motion that Kolya couldn't stand, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up, his whole body yearning towards Thei. </p><p>"They think I'm a virgin," Kolya gasped. He <em>was </em>about to come. He saw the flicker of surprise in Thei's eyes, his lips going thin. Kolya's hand tightened in Rhahat's hair.</p><p>"Say 'his mouth was made for this'," Thei said. He was looking down at Kolya, phantom fingers brushing over his lips, soft over his tongue. </p><p>"His mouth was made for this," Kolya said, shuddering through the words. </p><p>"It was, wasn't it?" Eday said. He moved closer; Kolya could feel the cold movement of the chain against his calf. Rhahat looked up at Kolya, his eyes still glassy. There was no pleading in them; no subservience. Just a momentary flash of hot fury, only matched by the insistence of his mouth, the way he drew forward to push Kolya's cock as deep as he could manage. </p><p>Kolya looked up at Thei. "You knew they would do this to me."</p><p>"What?" </p><p>"That's why you made me like this," he said. "You <em>knew</em> — " His hips jerked, overwhelming, desperate pleasure running through him, phantom hands pinching his nipples, twisting, Rhahat's throat squeezing him. He arched his back, legs shaking, hands twisting on the blanket. He closed his eyes, hard, and for a moment he could not hear as he came, pouring come down Rhahat's throat. It wasn't enough. Nowhere near enough.</p><p>"Of course I didn't know," said Thei.</p><p>Rhahat pulled back. His mouth was red, eyes wet. Whatever Kolya thought he had seen was gone, replaced by an unfocused, docile gaze. Kolya's cock was flushed and still hard, despite the fact he could see Rhahat's throat working, his mouth half-open while he gasped for breath. Eday was at the bed now, his hand stroking over the back of Rhahat's head, tangling in the strands. </p><p>"You think this is what I want?"</p><p>"Are you going to fuck him, blackbird?" </p><p>"Yes." The word choked out of him. He didn't want to. He didn't want to say it. He didn't want to <em>hurt </em>Rhahat, but he was going to. There was no other choice. </p><p>Eday laughed; Thei frowned. Kolya could feel himself ripping in two.</p><p>"I don't want <em>anyone</em> else to touch you," Thei hissed.</p><p>"You'll be a true Miran after this," Eday said, pulling Rhahat back against his body. </p><p>"You think I want you to feel nothing?"</p><p>"Even if you had fucked in Kur, it wouldn't compare."</p><p>"I want you always hard and wanting," Thei said. "I want you begging. I want you pleading for come."</p><p>"He should thank us for providing him the best ass in Mira," Pakhyn said. He was closer, leaning his weight on the bed. Eday's weight was dipping it, too, and Thei was leaning down. Even with the light passing through him, having him so close felt like being in shadow.</p><p>"You should be thanking <em>me</em>," Thei said. "I made you what you are. Not them."</p><p>"Thank you," Kolya said, and looked up at Thei, matching his burning gaze. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, his body sluggish and slow to respond. His hips kicked, body over-sensitised, aftershocks of pleasure trembling in his muscles. </p><p>"Turn over," Eday said, slapping Rhahat on the ass, hard enough that his body jolted against Kolya's. Even the brief contact of Rhahat's fever-hot skin against his thighs made him gasp, and then he flushed at the sound of Pakhyn's chuckle. "How do you want him, blackbird?"</p><p>"Yes, how do you want him?" Thei said. His hand was on Kolya's forehead, then his cheek, brushing against his lips and his open mouth, his jaw and his throat, a whisper of pressure in that final touch. "Why don't you ask him to fuck you? That's what you really like, isn't it?"</p><p>"I want to feel it," Kolya said, stuttering on the Miran. "I — I want him to feel it." <em>I want him to feel good</em>, he thought, but managed to choke the words back down. <em>Not like this</em>. </p><p>"Ah, a true son of Mira," Eday said. "Suffering is pleasure, after all." He slapped Rhahat's upper thigh again, then gripped it, his fingers denting his soft skin. A muscle fluttered in Rhahat's jaw; there was no other sign of tension or aggravation in him. Nothing in his eyes as Kolya had seen before. It was grotesque. The sight should have been disgusting him, not making his cock twitch, his balls tightening against his body. But Rhahat was so soft. He would bend to any desire. Kolya was hot all over. He needed — he needed to — </p><p>"You're feeling it, aren't you?" Thei said, softly. </p><p>"I can't let anyone fuck me," Kolya said, from between gritted teeth. It felt wrong just to lie here. His cock was hard, leaking against his stomach. Pakhyn's hand was on his sword. "I can't — they'll — "</p><p>"You'll end up like him," Thei said, sitting up to look down at Rhahat. "What is he? A spy?" </p><p>"I don't know," Kolya said. Thei reached out for the chain curiously, but when his fingers made contact with it, he jerked back with a hiss, steadying himself. He held his hand up in front of his face and turned it this way and that; Kolya could see the tear in him the chain had made, a glimpse of a whirling abyss. Rhahat raised his head slowly, eyes confused, looking through Thei to the back of the tent. Thei shook his hand, and then smiled down at Kolya as if nothing had happened.</p><p>Eday grabbed Rhahat's leg and tipped him forward onto his front, where he let out a whoosh of breath, his hair spreading around his head like a corona. The chain was twisted, his arm caught underneath him, the white links digging into his hip. Kolya could see the red mark of Eday's hand on his ass. <em>We match</em>, he thought, and Thei cocked his head. </p><p>"It's a shame," Thei said. "I could make you wet. I could make you wanting. I could stretch you — "</p><p>Kolya's body clenched, his hole fluttering, his cock spurting against his stomach. Coming without coming, groaning with it. "You can't let them know what I want," he said to Thei, tongue thick in his mouth. </p><p>Rhahat had fallen half across his legs, his mouth open against Kolya's calf. He couldn't stop looking at the rise of Rhahat's ass. He wanted to touch it, grab it, squeeze it until Rhahat moaned and whimpered. He pushed himself forward, onto his hands and knees. He couldn't <em>think</em>. All he could imagine was pushing his cock into Rhahat's little hole and making it wet with come, watching it stretch around him, getting it inside, <em>fucking </em>him until he was broken and begging. </p><p>Guilt clawed at his belly. He didn't want that. He'd never wanted anything like that. Yet his fingers were creeping towards the back of Rhahat's legs, wanting to touch his soft inner thigh, to bite there, to drag a line of bruises up towards his hole. "What — what are you doing — "</p><p>"I'm getting him ready for you."</p><p>" — to me?" </p><p>Thei seized the back of his neck, fingers digging into him. "I'm doing what you wanted," he said, hot breath close to the shell of Kolya's ear. "You want to fuck, don't you? You want to fill him up until he's drunk on your come, until he's filled with it, so full it slips out, his cock slippery with your come because you can't stop, can't stop trying to <em>breed </em>him — "</p><p>"Stop," Kolya said. </p><p>"You do want him to feel it," Eday said, and his fingers were wet when he moved away from Rhahat, a careless jerk that tightened the chain over his hip even more. Rhahat grunted into the mattress. </p><p>Thei touched the side of Kolya's face with the back of his hand, tucked a curl behind his ear. Kolya felt feral, his cock huge and throbbing, his balls tight and <em>full</em>, full of come that needed to be used, needed to be — </p><p>"This is how Vitale feels all the time," Thei said, dragging his lips over the side of Kolya's face, flicking his tongue to taste the salt on his skin. "He could have asked me for anything and all he wanted was you."</p><p>"Doesn't know me," Kolya mumbled, but he was blind with pleasure. Everything except Thei's voice had faded, a low blur of sound. Distantly, faintly, he could hear Pakhyn say <em>did you slip him something, Eday? He hasn't even fucked yet and he's drunk on it. </em>He reached out to Rhahat's calf, sliding his thumb along the length of it, feeling Rhahat shift, tense underneath him. He was hidden by the fall of his dark hair, but his face was turned towards Kolya, away from Eday. He could see the distant reflection of light in his eyes, but not what they held. Arousal? Hate? Kolya reached up to push his hair away from his face, but something stopped him, hand trembling in the air.</p><p>"He's not a lover, blackbird," Eday said, suddenly close. "There's no need to be polite."</p><p>Polite? All he could think about was his cock. All he could think about was fucking until he could no longer move. He couldn't stop himself, no matter how much he wanted to, his throat tight with it, his breaths short. It couldn't be reasoned with. Nothing would stop him. He wanted to sob, wanted to die to stop himself, but it felt <em>so good.</em></p><p>"Go on," Eday said, and he touched Kolya on his naked back, his calloused fingers sweeping over his skin. He fought not to flinch. Thei's teeth were bared; there was a low rumble in his throat like an angry beast. He shoved up next to Kolya and reached in between his legs, grabbing his cock with a harsh grip and squeezing. Kolya grappled for breath, fighting not to come. </p><p>"Do it because <em>I </em>tell you to," Thei said. "Not because he wants you to. Not because you want to. Because <em>I </em>tell you to."</p><p>"I don't want to," Kolya said, desperately hoping his words were in Kur. "I don't want to do this to him."</p><p>"Fuck him," Thei said, his voice shuddering through Kolya's body. </p><p>Kolya could no longer stand the burning under his skin. His knees gave out. God, he hoped Rhahat was ready. He was shoved up against him, Thei's hand guiding his cock up against Rhahat's hole, wet with oil. Rhahat's skin was so <em>hot</em> too. "You want to be Miran, don't you?" Thei said, viciously. "You want to be a good Miran boy, who fucks and kills for Mira, don't you?"</p><p>But his taunts were lost. Rhahat's hole was soft and hot, drawing in Kolya's cock despite the tension in his muscles and back, resisting and not at the same time. He drove his cock into Rhahat's hole with a single thrust, unable to hold back, shoving in hard and rough. Oh, God, he couldn't — it was so hot and tight, squeezing down on his cock. Rhahat groaned underneath him; the sound was drowned in his own hair. </p><p>Kolya pulled back and watched his cock slip free, wet and red, Rhahat's hole clinging to it until the last second, soft and wanting. He pushed forward again, hips stuttering as he pressed back in, slow. Rhahat was trying to move, rocking back and forward — for what purpose? To rub his cock on the bed? To get away?</p><p>"Harder, blackbird," Eday said. "He likes it hard."</p><p>"He likes it like you do," Thei said, from his other side, cool fingers stroking down Kolya's flank. "So hard that you can't think, fucking the thoughts from your head until all you can think about is my cock, how good it feels — " Ghostly fingers stroked over Kolya's hole. His hips snapped forward, opening Rhahat up around him, as he moaned, muffled into the bed. Kolya grabbed Rhahat's hips, pulling him back onto his cock and he couldn't <em>think</em>, all he could see was red, Rhahat's red hole, the red mark on his ass, the red marks where Kolya's fingers were digging into his skin. He needed to come. Needed to fill him up until he was full of it, needed to breed him — </p><p>"I don't want this," Kolya gasped. "I don't — "</p><p>"I want it," Thei said. "I want to see that look in your eyes when you realise you <em>do </em>want it. I want to see you be honest."</p><p>"Does it feel good, blackbird?" Eday said. "Tell me how it feels."</p><p>"Feels like I'm — I'm, uh, I can't, it feels — " His words were slurred, broken. He couldn't stop moving his hips, Rhahat being pushed back and forth, head nodding on his neck. Kolya couldn't take his eyes off him, the silky hair sliding off his face and neck. He was flushed, red-faced, mouth open and wet. Kolya could see his tongue, velvety-soft behind his teeth. His eyes were half-shuttered, but he was looking back at Kolya. Kolya felt like a feral beast, his only purpose to fuck and breed, to see Rhahat's body soft with it; he was going mad — "I need to come." The words were involuntary; right away he wanted to take them back.</p><p>"What a good boy," Eday said, "asking for permission." </p><p>Kolya turned his head, slowly, to look at Thei, who had been quiet. There was a ghostly touch skimming over the back of Kolya's leg, his thigh. </p><p>"Don't move," Thei said. But Kolya couldn't be still. His balls were high and tight, aching, he needed to — "Don't you fucking move." </p><p>The hands on his thighs moved to squeeze his ass, thick hands rough with sword callouses, and Kolya couldn't understand what was happening but it was wrong, something was wrong, he was shaking with wrongness, unable to stop fucking. But the pleasure was too much, too overwhelming, washing away his sanity, his reason. He wanted to be like this forever, just a thing drowning in pleasure, body locked in a rictus. </p><p>Then the hands parted his ass, wet fingers pressing against his hole. He flinched, <em>they can't know, </em>and tried to twist, but Eday put a hard hand on the back of his neck, squeezing. </p><p>"Turnabout is fair, don't you think?" he said. "How can you understand what he's feeling if you don't feel it?"</p><p>"No," Kolya said. He was dripping sweat. Eday pushed his head down until it met the curve of Rhahat's back. "I'm M — I'm not like — "</p><p>"Just a little," Eday said. "Just a little, so you understand." </p><p>Kolya looked up; Pakhyn was in front of him, cupping his cock through his trousers. His sword belt was off. He had judged Kolya not a threat. It was Beso behind him, Beso pressing one thick finger into Kolya's hole, wet with only the scarcest amount of oil. </p><p>"I'll kill you," Thei said, and it sounded not hot with rage but cold, his hand resting on Kolya's arm. Kolya could taste ash and flame at the back of his throat; he closed his mouth as hard as he could, clenching his teeth together. "I'll eat your heart, crush your — " His grip on Kolya's arm was painful; Kolya could feel bruises swelling under his touch. "I'll burn — "</p><p>But his threats were impotent. Beso hooked his finger and Kolya groaned with the stretch, the intrusion. No — he should be fighting, protesting, not surrendering, but it felt — it felt like the first time. This wasn't what he wanted — it had been Vitale, Vitale who had done this to him back then. He'd trusted Vitale, when he'd thought it was a ruse, trusted Vitale not to break him. Not to judge him as a Miran would, and find him diminished by his pleasure. And he remembered the look on Thei's face, the inhuman curiosity — <em>what hurts him? what doesn't? what feels so good it hurts?</em> — but he dared not look at Thei now. </p><p>He could feel flames on the side of his body, but they did not burn him. Flames that cast no light. He was pushed forward, head knocking softly into Rhahat's. His cock ached, even now — why couldn't he come? Why couldn't this be over?</p><p>"Just a little," Eday said, soothing, and stroked the back of Kolya's head. He shivered. He didn't want — he wanted to go <em>home</em>, he wanted to go home — </p><p>"I'm sorry," Kolya said into Rhahat's ear. He didn't know what language he was speaking. He didn't know if Rhahat could even hear him; he was too close to look at. Kolya could feel his breath against his cheek. "I'm sorry, I didn't want, I'm sorry — " </p><p>Beso's cock pushed in, huge and hot, slowly, stretching him beyond his limit. He wanted to scream, because Thei's grip had loosened and his hole felt <em>good</em>, the push of Beso's wide cock satisfying some deep urge in him, his purpose to fuck and be fucked. His head swam. </p><p>Beso's hips pressed against his ass; Kolya shuddered and came, Rhahat making a soft noise underneath him. It felt like he was coming forever. He shuddered with overstimulation, come flooding into Rhahat, who shook underneath him. Their limbs were tangled together; Beso's thrusts were shoving him into Rhahat painfully. All he could do was hold on to him, grip at his thin arms and listen to his pained breaths. </p><p><em>We're the same</em>, he thought. Oh, God, he couldn't stand how good Beso's cock felt, how it was shoved up against his prostate, the pleasure coalescing in his stomach, his thighs tight with sensation. He had pulled free of Rhahat in a rush of his own come, but every thrust rubbed his soft cock against Rhahat's hole, and he felt it clench against him. </p><p>"He <em>likes</em> it," Beso said, and his voice was a low rumble, more felt than heard. Kolya moaned, the rush of humiliation inescapable. They would never look at him the same again. They would never send him back to the Saltrock now, not when he had fallen so low. The knowledge burnt like the contempt in Beso's voice.</p><p>There were tears leaking down his face and wetting Rhahat's hair. <em>Vitale, </em>he thought to himself. <em>It's Vitale, and Thei, Thei will be next </em>— but Thei was cracking apart next to him, when he strained to look, a fractured image of a man, jagged cracks in his skin where Kolya could only see whirling ash and blood behind. </p><p>"Blackbird," Eday said, next to his ear. Rhahat had wiggled a hand free and he was pinching at Kolya again, nipping at his wrist, twisting the skin there. "How grow your fields?" Rhahat's fingernails dug into his skin, an anchor of pain. It wasn't enough.</p><p>"Fallow," Kolya whispered. Honey rushed over him in a great, slow wave. He reached out to Thei, whose eyes were wide with horror, reaching back with a decaying hand, before he was swept away, gone. No help remained. No ally. </p><p>"Is he right, blackbird?" Eday said. "Do you like being fucked?"</p><p>Kolya closed his eyes, tried to bite his tongue. But nothing stopped the words coming out of him. Nothing stopped the breathy moans that underlay the truth. "Yes."</p><p>"Yes, what?"</p><p>"I like being fucked," he sobbed.
</p><p>"Open your mouth," Eday said, soft. Kolya's mouth fell open, his tongue lax between his teeth. His body was just to be fucked, Beso's cock huge and unrelenting inside him, his hands gripping Kolya's waist. Eday was on the bed, his cock free and hard. He reached out to Kolya, who couldn't move. </p><p>But Rhahat moved, suddenly, under him, pulling free and pushing Kolya down and out of the way with surprising strength. The chain tangled in Kolya's hair, pulling tight, then loosening as Rhahat crawled towards Eday, his hair dragging over Kolya's face. </p><p><em>We're the same</em>, Kolya thought again, watching him. He still couldn't move. Could only blink, watching Rhahat move slowly, not even casting a look down at Kolya as he bent his head and took Eday's cock into his mouth. </p><p>"Looks like he's jealous," Eday said, with a laugh, over Kolya's head. "I never thought — " He stopped. Rhahat was shaking. Eday reached down and grabbed his head. </p><p>Rhahat looked up. Eday screamed. He was pulling at Rhahat's head, handfuls of his hair, but Rhahat wasn't moving. And then suddenly — he did. Eday reeled back, cupping his hands over his cock. Blood dripped from between his fingers. Kolya heard Rhahat spit, saw his teeth red with blood. </p><p>Beso pulled out of Kolya so fast it hurt, climbing over him to grab at Rhahat, who rolled to the side, and he was <em>laughing, </em>a sharp-edged laugh that was too high, wrong. He kicked Kolya in the face, a solid hit that made him grunt, the pain jolting him out of the trance. </p><p>Eday was on the floor, yelling. Rhahat spat again, splattering blood across the floor, his laugh ending when Beso punched him in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. He grabbed Rhahat by the back of the neck and threw him on the ground. </p><p>Kolya saw his chance; he slid backwards, his feet hitting the ground. His shaky legs could barely support him; there was wetness on his thighs. But Pakhyn was too quick for him, at his back with a hand on his shoulder, the point of a dagger against his skin. </p><p>"You better fix it, you little cunt," Pakhyn said, over Kolya's shoulder. "Fix it now and be grateful that he's not going to kill you." </p><p>Kolya couldn't understand what was happening. Beso stepped away. Rhahat turned his head and met Kolya's eyes for just a moment, and then reached down, knocking Eday's hands away. There was blood running down his chin, across his neck. What was he <em>doing</em>? </p><p>Eday began to shudder, and then he screamed again, legs kicking, face contorting with pain. It was a horrible sound that made Kolya shiver, made him want to <em>run</em>. There was golden light between Rhahat's fingers, brilliant against the dull flames. It flared and faded. Eday pushed him away, tucking his cock into his pants with shaking hands. He grabbed Rhahat's hair, tipping his head back painfully, but Rhahat was still smiling with bloody teeth.</p><p>"Get that thing out of here," Eday said, pulling himself to a sitting position. He did not even look at Kolya. "Get his clothes, I don't care, I'll deal with him later." </p><p>Kolya's heart was frantic with fear and relief. The last thing he saw, before Pakhyn shoved him out of the tent, was Rhahat's face, his smile; the last thing he heard was his laugh, followed by a slap. </p><p>*</p><p>Pakhyn pushed him out into the darkness. Kolya was still blinking and naked, struggling into his clothes. His thighs were wet, but he was burning; he felt like he was steaming in the cool air. </p><p>"Hurry up," Pakhyn said, his grip tight on the back of Kolya's neck. Kolya pulled up his trousers; that was enough for Pakhyn, who seemed content to drag him across the damp grass as he struggled to get his feet under him. Pakhyn kept twisting around, looking back towards Eday's tent, pulling Kolya to a stop. The back and forth made him dizzy, but he was coming back to himself, slowly, as he moved away from the tent. </p><p>He could feel the slight weight of the little knife in his pocket, and it was difficult not to reach for it. Kolya had faced down a god and survived. Pakhyn — Pakhyn was nothing. He should turn and push that knife through Pakhyn's neck and — and what? Be shot down by an arrow before he made it half a step. </p><p>Instead, Kolya gathered himself and took in his surroundings. The camp was dotted with little fires; he heard a snatch of song, and the ring of a spoon against metal. Pakhyn was pushing him towards something — whatever passed for a stockade in this camp, where unruly soldiers waited to be disciplined. It was empty now. Pakhyn wrenched the door open and shoved Kolya inside, locking the door without a word, already turning to hurry into the darkness. That suited Kolya fine. It was sloppy, and stupid, and that was fine. </p><p>Kolya finished dressing, even though it took a moment to open his hands where they were clenched around his shirt. He crouched in the darkness until his breathing slowed and he was able to push his hair back from his face with damp hands. There was a tension in the air of the camp; there might often be, so close to the border, but this felt different. The screaming, he thought. He could still hear its echo at the back of his mind. </p><p>Kolya waited in the deepest corner of the cell, counting his breaths. No one came to taunt him or even to just look at him through the bars. It was foolish to put him in such a shoddily guarded cell. This was meant for people that wanted to stay inside it, he thought. Nothing had changed for him since leaving the fort. One cell to another. </p><p>Thei wouldn't leave him so easily. He opened his mouth, slowly. It felt odd, slipping his own fingers into his mouth, past the bite of his teeth and down to the back of his tongue, velvet-soft and uncomfortable. His fingers left behind no trace of blood or ash; there was no taste at all but the salt of his own sweat. </p><p>He felt the shivery sensation of wanting to open his mouth wider for supplication, and he struggled against it, withdrawing his fingers and trying not to remember. But everything was mixed together: Thei pushing Kolya's head down to his cock, hot and wanting, the noises Kolya made around it, greedy and suffering —</p><p>It was worse now than it had been before, when it was just memories that plagued him, but now it came with a shocking wave of pleasure, and he had to resist curling up in the dirt from the power of the memory. He bit his tongue instead. </p><p>"I know you're here," he whispered, in Kur, into the bowl of his own hands. "I know you're watching me."</p><p>He knew it was a lie. There was nothing — he could not feel the heavy weight of Thei's attention, his feigned amusement like needles on the back of Kolya's neck, making him burn across his whole body with fear and anticipation. No one was coming to help him now, god or man. He had to clear his mind. He went back to counting breaths, watching the moon climb towards its apex through the bars. Long nights still hadn't left Mira, especially with the shroud of the mountains behind the camp. </p><p>Carefully, he retrieved the knife and held it tight in his hand. He waited until the night was at its deepest point, the camp quiet except for the occasional changing of sentries. It seemed like no one even knew he was here. That was fine, because he <em>wasn't</em> here; he was working his body out between the bars, holding his breath as he shifted back and forth against the iron, his lungs burning, until he finally slipped free. He reached behind him for his cloak, pulling the fabric between the bars.</p><p>That was it, he thought. That should be it. He wasn't here at all. Only a ghost in a dark cloak. In his mind, he was already halfway back to Jehan, his blood hot under his skin, the thump of his heart leading him — back. And yet he didn't move from where he was standing, his bare toes curling in the wet grass. He knotted the laces of his shoes and slung them around his neck. He knew what he was going to do and he was resigned to it, even before he turned back the way he had come. </p><p>He took a slow, roundabout route through the camp, despite the silence and darkness, until he was back behind the commander's white tent. It was dark inside too, except for the lowest breath of flame in a banked brazier. He crouched at the back; there was no sound of voices while he waited, and in fact, no sound at all until he palmed the little knife and slid it into the fabric of the tent. </p><p>Thei had kept a well-sharpened knife. It made no noise as it slipped through the fabric, making a tear just large enough for Kolya to slip through unnoticed. He brought with him a fresh spring breeze that was just enough to stir the warm tent air. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the low light. He could see the figure of Eday in the bed, shielded by sheer curtains. The chain caught the light, snaking down next to the bed, where Rhahat sat, head tipped forward like he was asleep. There wasn't enough room for him to lie down, the way that Eday was sleeping. </p><p>Kolya clenched his fist around the knife. His steps were silent as he approached the bed. His head felt clear with a sense of purpose; he could not remember the last time it had been this way, the world sharp and in focus. He could taste blood but it was his <em>own</em> blood. Now he was at the bed with the knife in his hand, parting the curtains with the tips of his fingers. Eday was turned away from him, his brow wrinkled in sleep.</p><p>Movement at his side — he reacted on reflex as Rhahat's hand wrapped around his leg, nails digging in deep. Kolya had to catch his breath to stop himself from recoiling in pain. He let go of the curtain. Rhahat raised his other hand, fingers curling around the chain, and Kolya rocked back. He crouched, slowly, until his head was hidden under the side of the bed, and Rhahat released his leg. </p><p>With Rhahat's head up, his hair fell away and Kolya could see his face, his cheek purple, one eye bruised and swollen shut. Worse than that, there was some kind of <em>thing </em>in his mouth, a silver bit that kept his jaw open, pulling hard at the corners of his lips. There was dried blood on his chin and neck. Kolya reached out towards him; Rhahat flinched back. </p><p><em>What now?</em> Kolya thought. He reached for the chain. Rhahat made no move to stop him, just watched as Kolya reached out to touch it, expecting delicate links that would bend and break. Instead it <em>shocked</em> him — a bright spark of pain that shot into his fingertips and all the way up to his elbow. He pulled away as fast as he could, struggling to contain his gasp and flinch. </p><p>Rhahat's eyes only held a faint derision. Kolya could see the wetness of his tongue in his wrenched-open mouth, but he could not speak. Rhahat looked down at the knife, then up at Kolya's face. His eyes were heavily lashed, his features almost delicate apart from his thick brows and the mounting anger in his eyes. It was hard to look into Rhahat's eyes, huge and grey, the colour of a sandy river stirred up by rain. But then they moved down to the knife again.</p><p>Kolya shifted his grip and pointed the knife towards Rhahat, who looked up at his face once more, pinning Kolya with his gaze. Kolya understood what Rhahat was asking. But he wasn't, he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't — </p><p>Rhahat rolled his eyes and pushed at Kolya with his foot. He looked at the knife again, slowly, as if Kolya was very stupid. Then he pointed at himself, slowly, taking care not to move too much. </p><p><em>Oh</em>, Kolya thought. He sheathed the knife, looking back up towards the bed where he could hear Eday's breathing. <em>I can fix this, </em>he thought, trying to send that thought to Rhahat. <em>I can stop him.</em> </p><p>He'd never heard Rhahat's voice, but he knew what Rhahat was thinking, as clearly as if he had spoken it into the silent air. There would be another. There would always be another. There was no way to make sure it would not be worse.</p><p>He handed the knife to Rhahat, a brief brush against his dry, hot fingertips. He could sense the tremble in Rhahat's body from that touch, the barely contained tension. There was a defeated frustration in his movements. Of course — Rhahat had nowhere to put the knife.</p><p>Kolya reached out, and Rhahat moved back again, dangerously jerking the chain. Kolya sighed; this wasn't what he wanted. He made do with miming at Rhahat's hair, indicating his fingers. Rhahat took Kolya's cue; he gathered his hair and braided it, slipping the slim knife into the braid. Kolya pulled a thread from the ribbon in his pocket and let Rhahat take it from his fingers, tying off the braid.</p><p>Kolya met Rhahat's eyes again; they were cold and distant. He could see Rhahat dissipating completely behind them, retreating into himself. There was nothing for Kolya here. No one would remember that he had been here. </p><p>*</p><p>The morning dawned chill and crisp over the Jehan border. Kolya shivered at the edge of a small lake, stripping down to nothing and forcing himself under the water. It felt like ice pressed against him, stealing feeling from his body. He welcomed it, even as he struggled back up to the surface, breaking back into the air with a rush. Then he raked his wet hair back from his face and started washing in earnest, emerging with skin reddened and breath heaving back onto the shore, the cattails and reeds brushing against him. He crouched there and dried himself with his cloak, struggling back into his clothes, which dragged on his damp skin. </p><p>He lay there on the grass for a while until the sun warmed him. A pair of ravens winged overhead, crying their harsh cries, but there was no other sign of life. Perhaps the land itself was warning the Jehan away from where he was. He teetered on the edge of sleep, but this was no place to rest. There <em>was</em> no place to rest. He didn't even know where he was going. Or at least, that was a lie he was eager to believe.</p><p>There was a flat rock that protruded out into the water. He sat there for a while, until the air grew still and there was a moment's silence. Looking down into the becalmed water, he could see himself looking back, his eyes wide and dark, hair pulled hastily back from his face. There was no escaping what he looked like, his blond hair, the shape of his nose — everything. </p><p>There was one last thing to do. He could still see Rhahat's bloody mouth in his mind, the memory linked to what he had done. The golden light pouring from his hands into Eday. He imagine Thei searching through his mind. He could see the burning curiosity in his eyes.</p><p>He looked down at himself until he saw a stranger's face. It wasn't him. He wasn't looking at himself. He saw the stranger's lips move; he heard — 
</p><p>"Blackbird, how grow your fields?"</p><p>"Fallow."</p><p>He sank. </p><p>*</p><p>Kolya woke on his side, looking up into the sky. It was late afternoon; the sun was beginning to go down. He was tired, and hungry enough that he could feel the pangs through his whole body. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked around. </p><p>There was no sign of his cloak. His legs were covered in little scratches, wet grass, and dirt. He brushed off as much as he could; it looked like he had gone through a thorn bush with no intention of stopping. There were red marks on his right arm too; when he turned his wrist up, he hissed a little. They were deep scratches. The fingernails on his left hand had dried blood under them. </p><p>To his left was forest. On his right — he turned. He knew what he would see before he saw it. </p><p>Kur. Not just Kur, but as close as it could be without him crossing the border. And not just that, but the fort. He could see the fort from here. There were no lights. No sign of life. He could still turn and walk away. Minat had left the choice to him. </p><p>The border didn't feel like a physical object to be pushed past, this time. He slipped through it as easily as stepping through mist, and felt nothing on the other side. </p><p>The sun in Kur always seemed a little closer, a little more red. It shimmered on the horizon, tinting the whole steppe, the dry grasses, the spindly trees. The grass was waist-high here, and struggling through it felt like walking in a dream. </p><p>By the time he was close, the sun was melting into the mountains, the light red-gold like molten metal. He could see movement on the ramparts, and strained his eyes to see who it was. Vitale? Had Vitale done the same thing, gone and come back? He shaded his eyes with his hand, but the figure was gone.</p><p>There was movement next to him, and something hit him hard in the side. He tumbled over backwards, coming to a rest in the dry, brittle grass. He didn't fight. He knew what was happening.</p><p>"I thought you were dead," Thei said. He was straddling Kolya, pushing him down into a bed of straw. Kolya felt the hunger begin to dissipate, the tiredness lifting from his body. "I thought they had killed you."</p><p>"No," Kolya said. "I came back." </p><p>Thei laughed at that, and there was none of his condescending amusement in it; it was genuine <em>relief</em>. He was tugging at the hem of Kolya's shirt, pushing it up over his head, pinning his wrists with one slight hand. "Did it all go as you expected?" he said. "Did Mother Mira give you everything you wanted?"</p><p>"You know it didn't," Kolya said. Thei's gaze raked down his front. "Tell me why you sent me there."</p><p>"To deliver my message," Thei said. </p><p>"Don't lie to me," Kolya said. "I don't believe you would ever do anything for one reason."</p><p>"Oh, you've come back angry," Thei said, and he reached down and cupped Kolya's cock through his pants. Kolya shuddered against it, half-hard just from Thei's attention. "How did you picture it? You'd bring him back here to be one of <em>us</em>?"</p><p>Kolya twisted in Thei's grip, both trying to pull away from him and tipping his hips up into the palm of Thei's hand at the same time. "No," he said, through gritted teeth. </p><p>"You did," Thei said. "You <em>did</em>. How would that work? What good would he even be? Vitale is mine, you're Vitale's, and he's yours? A little pet, just for Kolya — "</p><p>His anger burned — and then became a weapon under his control, as he relaxed into Thei's grip. "You're avoiding the question."</p><p>"You think you can question a god?" Thei said, leaning down to mouth at Kolya's throat, sucking a deep bruise into the side of his neck, the pain curling his toes and making his cock hard at the same time.</p><p>"Yes," Kolya said. "Haven't I earned that from you? After all you've done to me — "</p><p>"After all I've done <em>for</em> you." </p><p>"I came back," Kolya said. Thei was burning hot, his hands gripping Kolya's wrists so tight that he could feel bruises rising to the surface. "After everything you've done, I came back."</p><p>"I have to say I'm surprised," Thei said. "Who would come back to <em>this</em>?"</p><p>"I came back for Vitale," Kolya said, even though it tasted bitter, less than true.</p><p>Thei laughed. "Are you sure you want that?" he said. "Are you sure that you can withstand it?"</p><p>Kolya was hot and hard and <em>wanting</em>, his cock throbbing. Every time he thought he was getting close to the truth, Thei made it worse, his arousal flaring hotter under his skin. "Stop avoiding it. Answer me," he gasped. Thei ripped his trousers off and settled himself between Kolya's legs. Kolya's body was moving in desperate little jerks, trying to push himself closer to Thei, trying to get Thei to fuck him, answer him, anything. "Are you doing this? Are you doing this to me?"</p><p>"I'm not doing anything to you," Thei said.</p><p>"<em>Why not</em>?"</p><p>For a second Thei looked flummoxed, blinking, and the next second he was naked and hard, lifting Kolya's legs up to expose his hole, pushing deep inside in a single thrust. Kolya yelped, but it didn't <em>hurt</em>, it just felt good, throwing him into sudden, endless pleasure. Thei fucked him <em>hard, </em>without pausing for breath, without a care for the way Kolya was crying out for it, voice catching on each gasping sob. Thei gripped Kolya's wrists and used them to pull him down harder into his thrusts, mottling his arms with bruises. </p><p>"I sent you for selfish reasons," Thei said, bending his head to kiss Kolya. Kolya opened his mouth to Thei. Thei's tongue was hot and slick, sliding across Kolya's teeth and tongue, drowning him. Thei's cock was slamming against his prostate with each thrust, opening him up to dark, intense pleasure that welled under his skin and burst into flames across his whole body, and he was coming and not coming at the same time, come landing on his own lips, his neck, his chest as he succumbed to the endless rush of sensation, crying out into the night. "I sent you away because <em>I </em>wanted to. Does that answer satisfy you?"</p><p>"No," Kolya said. His heart was cracking open with what Thei was doing to him. Kolya was weak. He couldn't endure it. Didn't want to. </p><p>"I love Vitale," Thei said, and Kolya didn't know how he could sound so <em>calm</em>, not when he was destroying Kolya from the inside out, his cock huge and hot within him, stretching him, making him sob. "I do. I have to. But I was afraid I would come to favour you."</p><p>"Liar. Look what you've turned him into," Kolya said, choking on his own spit. "You don't know what love feels like."</p><p>"Of course not," Thei said. "But neither do you."</p><p>Kolya came again, clenching hard around Thei's cock. It was affecting him too; Kolya could see him coming undone around the edges, his thrusts growing ragged, his breaths harsh. </p><p>"Why would I start lying to you now?" Thei said. "You're not my scion. You're meant to be a thing, <em>his </em>thing — "</p><p>"Then what's the <em>true </em>reason," Kolya said, from between clenched teeth. </p><p>"But you're interesting, you know?" Thei said. "This is why you're dangerous <em>to me</em>."</p><p>"Tell me," Kolya said, and Thei's rhythm faltered; Kolya fell from the peak, back to hovering on the brink of it, but Thei's cock was no less hard inside him, huge against his prostate. Thei was going to fill him until he was dripping with come, until every movement made it leak down his thighs for Vitale to see — </p><p>"You've asked enough, I think," Thei said, tart. "Why'd you come back? What are you now?"</p><p>It felt like Thei was looking directly under his skin, pulling him back until he would find where the truth lay. "Tell me <em>why</em> you did it," Kolya said instead.</p><p>"Because I wanted to see what would happen," Thei said, releasing Kolya's wrists. He pinched Kolya's nipple and it <em>hurt</em>, hurt so much that he cried out. When Thei moved his hands away there was a dark jewel there, and the pain was throbbing into pleasure. "Because I thought if I made the first move — " He pinched Kolya's other nipple, but this time he was prepared for the pain, and his body took it and made it good against his will. " — perhaps it would spur my brothers and sisters from the earth." He smiled down at Kolya, whose heart reached a rapid crescendo. </p><p>"Oh, don't worry so much," Thei said. "I'm by far the worst — and the weakest."</p><p>Kolya looked up past him, towards the night sky. His mind couldn't hold what he was being told; it ran out of him like water from a spilled cup. Shock, fear, terror — there was nothing except the hot throb of Thei's cock in him, the insistent pinch of his fingers. He could push his fear back from his mind; he had been trained to do that for a very long time. Thei was still avoiding the truth — there was only one reason why he would do so much to Kolya, for Kolya. So much indulgence, so much protection, all hidden in the guise of mockery.</p><p>"Answer me," Thei said, from somewhere far away. Kolya blinked and focused again. "Are you Miran?"</p><p>"No," Kolya said. He had expected a truth that cut both ways, but it barely hurt at all.</p><p>"Maybe you never were. Are you Kur, then?"</p><p>"No," Kolya said. </p><p>"What, then?"</p><p>"I'm yours," Kolya said. He was gambling with his own fate, based only on a feeling, and was rewarded with Thei's surprise. "For a price."</p><p>"You think this is a negotiation?"</p><p>"Yes," Kolya said. "I came back, didn't I?"</p><p>"You had nowhere else to go," Thei said. </p><p>"You don't want me to go anywhere else," Kolya said, seeing the truth of it in Thei's eyes. A vicious twist of triumph spurred on his words. "You sent me away to see if I'd come back."</p><p>"If you think you only came back for Vitale, you're lying to yourself," Thei said, hissing out the words. "I can see it. I can see what you think."</p><p>"I know," Kolya said. "That's why there's a price."</p><p>"You should've been a general," Thei said. </p><p>"Aren't I more than that, with a god's favour?" Kolya said. It was hard to speak, between the pleasure destroying his mind and the way he was succumbing to it, his words shattered by the desperate ruin of his voice. "If you favour me, listen to me." Thei was rocking his hips into Kolya's hole; he would be ruined from this. He would never be the same. Either one of them would be able to bend him over whenever they wished, and find his hole stretched and wet with come, wanting. </p><p>"What's the price?"</p><p>"I want you to leave Mira alone," Kolya said. Thei's touch on his neck startled him; it was a soft counterpoint to the harshness of his thrusts, his fingertips lingering over the bruise there.</p><p>"You're not Miran," Thei said. "What do you care?"</p><p>"You asked for my price," Kolya said, turning his head down into Thei's touch. He let his fingers run over Kolya's wet mouth, moving with his words.</p><p>"If you're going to ask me to change Vitale, you must know by now that I only do to Vitale what he wants," Thei said. </p><p>Kolya surrendered to Thei's gentle touch, kissing the tips of his fingers. "If you want to hurt anyone, hurt me," he said.</p><p>"I was going to do that anyway," Thei said.</p><p>"Only me."</p><p>Thei took Kolya's hand, and turned it this way and that, looking at it with his dark eyes. Then he pressed Kolya's finger back, and back further, until Kolya began to sweat and twist — and then further still, until the snap of it made Kolya cry out, Thei shuddering to climax inside him. Pain rolled down Kolya's arm and up into his body. He writhed from it, legs kicking at the grass, until it faded to a dull throb. Thei reached down to gently pull himself free of Kolya's body, pushing his come back in with his fingertips. </p><p>"I want — " Kolya choked on his words.</p><p>"Anything," Thei said. Kolya was looking over his shoulder to where lights blazed on the fort. Thei's voice was rich with fascination, his eyes burning with a distant flame of wonderment. <em>I am that wriggling thing</em>, Kolya thought. "Anything."</p><p>"I want to keep bees," Kolya said. He was crying, he didn't know why, fat tears dripping from the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks, into his ears and across his neck. "The orchard — I want to keep bees."</p><p>"That's what you ask from a god?" Thei said. He laughed, just a little, his slim body shaking against Kolya's chest. "I suppose I can grant such a favour." He stood, pulling Kolya with him on shaky legs. "Come on, now," Thei said. </p><p>Night had fallen, velvety-soft and chill across Kolya's back. Thei put an arm around his waist, guiding him back towards the fort — where the flames burned on the battlements, but not in the windows, where the halls were empty except for the flap of ragged tapestries against cold stone walls.</p><p>"Come on," Thei said, again, as Kolya's feet faltered. Thei leaned closer, as if whispering a secret. "He's waiting for you." </p><p>No push from Thei was needed; his arm slipped free as Kolya stepped over the threshold, and then further, feet light and quick on the cool, smooth steps of home.</p>
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